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THE  "MARCUS  '   AND  HIS  "CHERRYBINS" 

— Burlesques 


THE 

MAYFAIR  EDITION 

OF  THE  WORKS  OF 


WILLIAM  MAKEPEACE 
THACKERAY 


1 

1 


THE   WORKS  OF 


WILLIAM  MAKEPEACE 

THACKERAY 


VOLUME  XIX 

Novels  by  Eminent  Hands 
and  Other  Papers 


FIFTY-SIX  PHOTOGRAVURES  AND 
ILLUSTRATIONS  FROM  ORIGINAL 
DRAWINGS  BY  THACKERAY. 
FREDERICK    WALKER,  R.A., 
GEORGE  DU  MAURIER, 
FRANK  DICKSEE.  R.A., 
RICHARD  DOYLE, 
ETC. 


P.  F.  COLLIER  &  SON 
Publishers  New  York 


8ZS 


J^OVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS, 


I — Vol.  19 


I 

I 

I 

I 

i 

I 


CONTENTS. 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 

PAGE 

Punch's  Prize  Novelists,   3 

George  de  Barnwell,   4 

Codlingsby,   18 

Lords  and  Liveries,   33 

Barbaziire,   43 

Phil  Fogarty,   54 

Crinoline,   70 

The  Stars  and  Stripes,   81 

A  Plan  for  a  Prize  Novel,   90 

THE  DIARY  AND  LETTERS  OF  C:  JEAMES  DE  LA 

PLUCHE. 

A  Lucky  Speculator,  97 

"Jeames  of  Buckley  Square,"  98 

A  Letter  from  "  Jeames,  of  Buckley  Square,"    ....  100 

Jeames's  Diary,  104 

Jeames  on  Time  Bargings,  153 

Jeames  on  the  Gauge  Question,  157 

Mr.  Jeames  again,  161 

Mr.  Jeames's  Sentiments  on  the  Cambridge  Election,       .      .  166 

Sonnick,  169 

The  Persecution  of  British  Footmen,  170 

Thoughts  on  a  New  Comedy,  180 

THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

CHAPTER 

1   189 

II.  Henry  V.  and  Napoleon  III. ,   195 

III.  The  Advance  of  the  Pretenders— Historical  Review,      .  201 

IV.  The  Battle  of  Rheims,   206 

V.  The  Battle  of  Tours,        .......  209 

VI.  The  English  under  Jenkins,     .      .      .      c       «      .  215 


iv  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

VII.  The  Leaguer  of  Paris,  221 

VIII.  The  Battle  of  the  Forts,  .235 

IX.  Louis  XVIL,    .       ,  227 

A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 

I.  Sir  Ludwig  of  Hombourg   235 

II.  The  Godesbergers,    .       .       .  '     .       .       .       .       .  240 

III.  The  Festival,   246 

IV.  The  Flight,   248 

V.  The  Traitor's  Doom,   251 

VI.  The  Confession,  256 

VII.  The  Sentence,  260 

VIII.  The  Childe  of  Godesberg,  262 

IX.  The  Lady  of  Windeck,  273 

X.  The  Battle  of  the  Bowmen,  280 

XI.  The  Martyr  of  Love,  286 

XII.  The  Champion,  294 

XIII.  The  Marriage  301 

SOME  PASSAGES  IN  THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 

L  "Truth  is  Strange,  Stranger  than  Fiction,"     .       .  .309 
II.  Allyghur  and  Laswaree,  324 

III.  A  Peep  into  Spain — Account  of  the  Origin  and  Services 

of  the  Ahmednuggar  Irregulars,  336 

IV.  The  Indian  Camp— The  Sortie  from  the  Fort,        .      .  353 
V.  The  Issue  of  my  Interview  with  my  Wife,      .      .      .  364 

VI.  Famine  in  the  Garrison,  369 

VII.  The  Escape,  377 

VIII.  The  Captive  380 

IX.  Surprise  of  Futtyghur.  388 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS 


PUNCH'S  PRIZE  NOVELISTS. 

PuisTCH^s  Prize  Novelists — so  called  because  a  Twenty 
Thousand  Guinea  Prize  is  to  be  awarded  to  the  successful 
candidate — will  embrace  works  by  some  of  the  most  cele- 
brated authors  this  country  boasts  of. 

Their  tales  will  appear  in  succession,  and  pretty  con- 
tinuously, in  the  pages  of  this  Miscellany. 

The  publication  will  probably  occupy  about  five-and- 
thirty  years,  or  more  or  less,  according  to  the  reception 
with  which  the  novels  meet  from  our  enlightened  patrons 
— the  generous  British  people. 

All  novels  cannot  be  given  entire,  as  a  century  would 
scarcely  suffice,  so  numerous  are  our  authors,  so  prolific  and 
so  eager  has  been  the  rush  with  stories,  when  our  (confiden- 
tial) announcement  was  sent  into  the  literary  world.  But 
fair  specimens  of  the  authors'  talents  will  be  laid  before  the 
public,  illustrated  in  our  usual  style  of  gorgeous  splendour. 

The  first  prize  will  be  20,000  guineas,  viz.,  a  lottery 
ticket  to  that  amount,  entitling  the  holder  to  the  above 
sum  or  a  palace  at  Vienna.  The  second  prize  will  be  the 
volume  of  Punch  for  the  current  half-year.  The  third  a 
subscription  to  the  British  and  Foreign  Institute,  etc.,  etc. 

With  a  pride  and  gratification  we  cannot  conceal,  we  at 
once  introduce  the  public  to  George  de  Barnwell,  by  Sir 
E.  L.  B.  L.BB.  LL.  BBB.  LLL.,  Bart. 

We  are  not  at  liberty  to  reveal  the  gifted  author's  name, 
but  the  admirers  of  his  works  will  no  doubt  recognise,  in 
the  splendid  length  of  the  words,  the  frequent  employment 
of  the  Beautiful  and  the  Ideal,  the  brilliant  display  of 
capitals,  the  profuse  and  profound  classical  learning,  and, 
above  all,  in  the  announcement  that  this  is  to  be  the  last  of 
his  works — one  who  has  delighted  us  for  many  years. 


4 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


GEORGE  DE  BARNWELL. 

In  the  Morning  of  Life  the  Truthful  wooed  the  Beauti- 
ful, and  their  offspring  was  Love.  Like  his  Divine  parents, 
He  is  Eternal.  He  has  his  Mother's  ravishing  smile;  his 
Father's  steadfast  eyes.  He  rises  every  day,  fresh  and 
glorious  as  the  untired  Sun-God.  He  is  Eros,  the  ever 
young.  Dark,  dark  were  this  world  of  ours  had  either 
Divinity  left  it — dark  without  the  day-beams  of  the  La- 
tonian  Charioteer,  darker  yet  without  the  daedal  Smile  of 
the  God  of  the  Other  Bow !   Dost  know  him.  Reader? 

Old  is  he,  Eros,  the  ever  young !  He  and  Time  were 
children  together.  Chronos  shall  die  too;  but  Love  is  im- 
perishable. Brightest  of  the  Divinities,  where  hast  thou 
not  been  sung?  Other  worships  pass  away;  the  idols  for 
whom  pyramids  were  raised  lie  in  the  desert  crumbling 
and  almost  nameless;  the  Olympians  are  fled,  their  fanes 
no  longer  rise  among  the  quivering  olive-groves  of  Ilissus, 
or  crown  the  emerald  islets  of  the  amethyst  iEgean !  These 
are  gone,  but  thou  remainest.  There  is  still  a  garland  for 
thy  temple,  a  heifer  for  thy  stone.  A  heifer?  Ah,  many 
a  darker  sacrifice.  Other  blood  is  shed  at  thy  altars,  Ee- 
morseless  One,  and  the  Poet-Priest  who  ministers  at  thy 
Shrine  draws  his  auguries  from  the  bleeding  hearts  of  men ! 

While  Love  hath  no  end,  Can  the  Bard  ever  cease  sing- 
ing? In  Kingly  and  Heroic  ages,  'twas  of  Kings  and 
Heroes  that  the  Poet  spake.  But  in  these,  our  times,  the 
Artisan  hath  his  voice  as  well  as  the  Monarch.  The  Peo- 
ple To-Day  is  King,  and  we  chronicle  his  woes,  as  They  of 
old  did  the  sacrifice  of  the  princely  Iphigenia,  or  the  fate 
of  the  crowned  Agamemnon. 

Is  Odysseus  less  august  in  his  rags  than  in  his  purple? 
Fate,  Passion,  Mystery,  the  Victim,  the  Avenger,  the  Hate 
that  arms,  the  Furies  that  tear,  the  Love  that  bleeds,  are 
not  these  with  us  Still?  are  not  these  still  the  weapons  of 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


5 


the  Artist?  the  colours  of  his  palette,  the  chords  of  his 
lyre?  Listen!  I  tell  thee  a  tale — not  of  Kings — but  of 
Men — not  of  Thrones,  but  of  Love,  and  Grief  and  Crime. 
Listen,  and  but  once  more.  ^Tis  for  the  last  time  (prob- 
ably) these  fingers  shall  sweep  the  strings. 

E.L.B.L.B  B.L  L.B  B  B.L  L  L. 

NOONDAY  IN  CHEPE. 

^Twas  noonday  in  Chepe.  High  Tide  in  the  mighty 
Eiver  City! — its  banks  well-nigh  overflowing  with  the 
myriad-waved  Stream  of  Man !  The  toppling  wains,  bear- 
ing the  produce  of  a  thousand  marts;  the  gilded  equipage 
of  the  Millionary;  the  humbler,  but  yet  larger,  vehicle  from 
the  green  metropolitan  suburbs  (the  Hanging  Gardens  of 
our  Babylon)  in  which  every  traveller  might,  for  a  modest 
remuneration,  take  a  republican  seat;  the  mercenary  ca- 
roche,  with  its  private  freight;  the  brisk  curricle  of  the  let- 
ter-carrier, robed  in  royal  scarlet;  these  and  a  thousand 
others  were  labouring  and  pressing  onward  and  locked  and 
bound  and  hustling  together  in  the  narrow  channel  of 
Chepe.  The  imprecations  of  the  charioteers  were  terrible. 
From  the  noble's  broidered  hammer-cloth,  or  the  driving- 
seat  of  the  common  coach,  each  driver  assailed  the  other 
with  floods  of  ribald  satire.  The  pavid  matron  within  the 
one  vehicle  (speeding  to  the  Bank  for  her  semestrial  pit- 
tance) shrieked  and  trembled;  the  angry  Dives  hastening  to 
his  offices  (to  add  another  thousand  to  his  heap)  thrust  his 
head  over  the  blazoned  panels,  and  displayed  an  eloquence 
of  objurgation  which  his  very  Menials  could  not  equal;  the 
dauntless  street  urchins,  as  they  gaily  threaded  the  Laby- 
rinth of  Life,  enjoyed  the  perplexities  and  quarrels  of  the 
scene,  and  exacerbated  the  already  furious  combatants  by 
their  poignant  infantile  satire.  And  the  Philosopher,  as 
he  regarded  the  hot  strife  and  struggle  of  these  Candidates 
in  the  race  for  Gold,  thought  with  a  sigh  of  the  Truthful 
and  the  Beautiful,  and  walked  on,  melancholy  and  serene. 

'Twas  noon  in  Chepe.    The  ware-rooms  were  thronged. 


6 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


The  flaunting  windows  of  the  mercers  attracted  many  a 
purchaser :  the  glittering  panes,  behind  which  Birmingham 
had  glazed  its  simulated  silver,  induced  rustics  to  pause : 
although  only  noon,  the  savory  odours  of  the  Cook  Shops 
tempted  the  ever-hungry  citizen  to  the  bun  of  Bath,  or  to 
the  fragrant  potage  that  mocks  the  turtle's  flavour — the 
turtle !  0  dapihiis  supremi  grata  testudo  Jovis  !  I  am  an 
Alderman  when  I  think  of  thee !  Well :  it  was  noon  in 
Chepe. 

But  were  all  battling  for  gain  there?  Among  the  many 
brilliant  shops  whose  casements  shone  upon  Chepe,  there 
stood  one  a  century  back  (about  which  period  our  tale 
opens)  devoted  to  the  sale  of  Colonial  produce.  A  rudely 
carved  image  of  a  negro  with  a  fantastic  plume  and  apron 
of  variegated  feathers,  decorated  the  lintel.  The  East 
and  the  West  had  sent  their  contributions  to  replenish  the 
window. 

The  poor  slave  had  toiled,  died  perhaps,  to  produce  yon 
pyramid  of  swarthy  sugar  marked  "  only  6|-d.'' — That  catty 
box,  on  which  was  the  epigraph  Strong  Family  Congo  only 
3s.  9d.,  was  from  the  country  of  Confutzee — That  heap  of 
dark  produce  bore  the  legend  "Try  our  Eeal  Nut'' — 'Twas 
Cocoa — and  that  nut  the  Cocoa-nut,  whose  milk  has  re- 
freshed the  traveller  and  perplexed  the  natural  philosopher. 
The  shop  in  question  was,  in  a  word,  a  Grocer's. 

In  the  midst  of  the  shop  and  its  gorgeous  contents  sate 
one  who,  to  judge  from  his  appearance  (though  'twas  a 
difficult  task,  as  in  sooth,  his  back  was  turned),  had  just 
reached  that  happy  period  of  life  when  the  Boy  is  expand- 
ing into  the  Man.  0  Youth !  Youth !  Happy  and  Beau- 
tiful! 0  fresh  and  roseate  dawn  of  life;  when  the  dew  yet 
lies  on  the  flowers,  ere  they  have  been  scorched  and  with- 
ered by  Passion's  fiery  Sun!  Immersed  in  thought  or 
study,  and  indifferent  to  the  din  around  him,  sate  the  Boy. 
A  careless  guardian  was  he  of  the  treasures  confided  to 
him.  The  crowd  passed  in  Chepe  he  never  marked  it.  The 
sun  shone  on  Chepe  he  only  asked  that  it  should  illumine 
the  page  he  read.    The  knave  might  filch  his  treasures,  he 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


7 


was  heedless  of  the  knave.  The  customer  might  enter;  but 
his  book  was  all  in  all  to  him. 

And  indeed  a  customer  was  there;  a  little  hand  was  tap- 
ping on  the  counter  with  a  pretty  impatience;  a  pair  of  arch 
eyes  were  gazing  at  the  boy,  admiring,  perhaps,  his  manly 
proportions  through  the  homely  and  tightened  garments  he 
wore. 

"  Ahem !  sir !  I  say,  young  man ! the  customer  exclaimed. 

^'  To7i  d^apa7neiho7}ienos  prosephe,"  vesiA  on  the  Student, 
his  voice  choked  with  emotion.  "What  language,''  he 
said,  "How  rich,  how  noble,  how  sonorous!  prosephe 
podas  " 

The  customer  burst  out  into  a  fit  of  laughter  so  shrill  and 
cheery,  that  the  young  Student  could  not  but  turn  round, 
and,  blushing,  for  the  first  time  remarked  her.  "  A  pretty 
Grocer's  boy  you  are,"  she  cried,  "with  your  applepie- 
bomenos  and  your  French  and  lingo.  Am  I  to  be  kep 
waiting  for  hever?  " 

"Pardon,  fair  Maiden,"  said  he,  with  high-bred  courtesy; 
"'Twas  not  French  I  read,  'twas  the  Godlike  language  of 
the  blind  old  bard.  In  what  can  I  be  serviceable  to  ye, 
lady?  "  and  to  spring  from  his  desk,  to  smooth  his  apron, 
to  stand  before  her  the  obedient  Shop  Boy,  the  Poet  no 
more,  was  the  work  of  a  moment. 

"I  might  have  prigged  this  box  of  figs,"  the  damsel  said 
good-naturedly,  "and  you'd  never  have  turned  round." 

"They  came  from  the  country  of  Hector,"  the  boy  said. 
"Would  you  have  currants,  lady?  These  once  bloomed  in 
the  island  gardens  of  the  blue  iEgean.  They  are  uncom- 
mon fine  ones,  and  the  figure  is  low;  they're  fourpence- 
halfpenny  a  pound.  Would  ye  mayhap  make  trial  of  our 
teas?  We  do  not  advertise,  as  some  folks  do:  but  sell  as 
low  as  any  other  house." 

"You're  precious  young  to  have  all  these  good  things," 
the  girl  exclaimed,  not  unwilling,  seemingly,  to  prolong  the 
conversation.  "  If  I  was  you,  and  stood  behind  the  coun- 
ter, I  should  be  eating  figs  the  whole  day  long." 

"Time  was,"  answered  the  lad,  "and  not  long  since  I 


8 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


thought  so,  too,  I  thought  I  never  should  be  tired  of  figs. 
But  my  old  uncle  bade  me  take  my  fill,  and  now  in  sooth  I 
am  aweary  of  them." 

"I  think  you  gentlemen  are  always  so,"  the  coquette 
said. 

"  Nay,  say  not  so,  fair  stranger !  "  the  youth  replied,  his 
face  kindling  as  he  spoke  and  his  eagle  eyes  flashing  fire. 
"Figs  pall,  but  0!  the  Beautiful  never  does!  Figs  rot, 
but  0 !  the  Truthful  is  eternal  I  was  born,  lady,  to  grap- 
ple with  the  Lofty  and  the  Ideal.  My  soul  yearns  for  the 
Visionary.  I  stand  behind  the  counter;  it  is  true,  but  I 
ponder  here  upon  the  deeds  of  heroes,  and  muse  over  the 
thoughts  of  sages.  What  is  grocery  for  one  who  has  am- 
bition? What  sweetness  hath  Muscovado  to  him  who  hath 
tasted  of  Poesy?  The  Ideal,  lady,  I  often  think,  is  the 
true  Eeal,  and  the  Actual  but  a  visionary  hallucination. 
But  pardon  me;  with  what  may  I  serve  thee?  " 

"  I  came  only  for  sixpenn'orth  of  tea-dust,"  the  girl  said, 
with  a  faltering  voice,  "  but  oh,  I  should  like  to  hear  you 
speak  on  for  everi  " 

Only  for  sixpenn'orth  of  tea-dust!  Girl,  thou  camest 
for  other  things!  Thou  lovedst  his  voice?  Syren!  what 
was  the  witchery  of  thine  own?  He  deftly  made  up  the 
packet  and  placed  it  in  the  little  hand.  She  paid  for  her 
small  purchase  and  with  a  farewell  glance  of  her  lustrous 
eyes,  she  left  him.  She  passed  slowly  through  the  portal, 
and  in  a  moment  more  was  lost  in  the  crowd.  It  was  noon 
in  Chepe.    And  George  de  Barnwell  was  alone. 


VOL.  II. 

We  have  selected  the  following  episodical  chapter  in 
preference  to  any  relating  to  the  mere  story  of  George 
Barnwell,  with  which  most  readers  are  familiar. 

Up  to  this  passage  (extracted  from  the  beginning  of  Vol. 
ii.)  the  tale  is  briefly  thus: — 

That  rogue  of  a  Millwood  has  come  back  every  day  to 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


9 


the  grocer's  shop  in  Chepe,  wanting  some  sugar,  or  some 
nutmeg,  or  some  figs,  half-a-dozen  times  in  the  week. 

She  and  George  de  Barnwell  have  vowed  to  each  other 
an  eternal  attachment. 

This  flame  acts  violently  upon  George..  His  bosom 
swells  with  ambition.  His  genius  breaks  out  prodigiously. 
He  talks  about  the  Good,  the  Beautiful,  the  Ideal,  etc., 
in  and  out  of  all  season,  and  is  virtuous  and  eloquent  al- 
most beyond  belief — in  fact  like  Devereux,  or  P.  Clifford, 
or  E.  Aram,  Esquires. 

Inspired  by  Millwood  and  Love,  George  robs  the  till, 
and  mingles  in  the  world  which  he  is  destined  to  ornament. 
He  outdoes  all  the  dandies,  all  the  wits,  all  the  scholars, 
and  all  the  voluptuaries  of  the  age — an  indefinite  period  of 
time  between  Queen  Anne  and  George  II. — dines  with  Curll 
at  St.  John's  Gate,  pinks  Colonel  Charteris  in  a  duel  be- 
hind Montague  House,  is  initiated  into  the  intrigues  of  the 
Chevalier  St.  George,  whom  he  entertains  at  his  sumptuous 
pavilion  at  Hampstead,  and  likewise  in  disguise  at  the 
shop  in  Cheapside. 

His  uncle,  the  owner  of  the  shop,  a  surly  curmudgeon 
with  very  little  taste  for  the  True  and  the  Beautiful,  has 
retired  from  business  to  the  pastoral  village  in  Cambridge- 
shire from  which  the  noble  Barnwells  came.  George's 
cousin  Annabel  is,  of  course,  consumed  with  a  secret  pas- 
sion for  him. 

Some  trifling  inaccuracies  may  be  remarked  in  the  ensu- 
ing brilliant  little  chapter;  but  it  must  be  remembered  that 
the  author  wished  to  present  an  age  at  a  glance;  and  the 
dialogue  is  quite  as  fine  and  correct  as  that  in  "  The  Last  of 
the  Barons"  or  in  "Eugene  Aram,"  or  other  works  of  our 
author,  in  which  Sentiment  and  History,  or  the  True  and 
the  Beautiful  are  united. 


it 


10  NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

button's  m  PALL  MALL. 

Those  who  frequent  the  dismal  and  enormous  Mansions 
of  Silence  which  society  has  raised  to  Ennui  in  that  Om- 
phalos of  town,  Pall  Mallj  and  which,  because  they  knock 
you  down  with  their  duhiess,  are  called  Clubs  no  doubt; 
those  who  yawn  from  a  bay-window  in  St.  James's  Street, 
at  a  half-score  of  other  dandies  gaping  from  another  bay- 
window  over  the  way;  those  who  consult  a  dreary  evening 
paper  for  news,  or  satisfy  themselves  with  the  jokes  of  the 
miserable  Punch,  by  way  of  wit;  the  men  about  town  of 
the  present  day,  in  a  word,  can  have  but  little  idea  of  Lon- 
don some  six  or  eight  score  years  back.  Thou  pudding- 
^  sided  old  dandy  of  St.  James's  Street,  with  thy  lackered 
boots,  thy  dyed  whiskers,  and  thy  suffocating  waistband, 
what  art  thou  to  thy  brilliant  predecessor  in  the  same  quar- 
ter? The  Brougham  from  which  thou  descendest  at  the 
portal  of  the  Carlton  or  the  Travellers',  is  like  everybody 
else's;  thy  black  coat  has  no  more  plaits,  nor  buttons,  nor 
fancy  in  it  than  thy  neighbours' ;  thy  hat  was  made  on  the 
very  block  on  which  Lord  Addlepate's  was  cast,  who  has 
just  entered  the  Club  before  thee.  You  and  he  yawn  to- 
gether out  of  the  same  omnibus-box  every  night;  you 
fancy  yourselves  men  of  pleasure;  you  fancy  yourselves 
men  of  fashion;  you  fancy  yourselves  men  of  taste;  in 
fancy,  in  taste,  in  opinion,  in  philosophy,  the  newspaper 
legislates  for  you;  it  is  there  you  get  your  jokes,  and  your 
thoughts,  and  your  facts  and  your  wisdom — poor  Pall  Mall 
dullards.  Stupid  slaves  of  the  Press,  on  that  ground  which 
you  at  present  occupy,  there  were  men  of  wit  and  pleasure 
and  fashion,  some  five-and-twenty  lustres  ago. 

We  are  at  Button's — the  well-known  sign  of  the  Turk's 
Head.  The  crowd  of  periwigged  heads  at  the  windows — 
the  swearing  chairmen  round  the  steps  (the  blazoned  and 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


11 


coronalled  panels  of  whose  vehicles  denote  the  lofty  rank 
of  their  owners) — the  throng  of  embroidered  beaux  entering 
or  departing  and  rendering  the  air  fragrant  with  the  odours 
of  pulvillio  and  pomander,  proclaim  the  celebrated  resort 
of  London^  s  Wit  and  Fashion.  It  is  the  corner  of  Eegent 
Street.    Carlton  House  has  not  yet  been  taken  down. 

A  stately  gentleman  in  crimson  velvet  and  gold  is  sip- 
ping chocolate  at  one  of  the  tables  in  earnest  converse  with 
a  friend  whose  suit  is  likewise  embroidered,  but  stained  by 
time,  or  wine  mayhap,  or  wear.  A  little  deformed  gentle- 
man in  iron-grey  is  reading  the  Morning  Clironide  news- 
paper by  the  fire,  while  a  divine,  with  a  broad  brogue  and 
a  shovel  hat  and  cassock  is  talking  freely  with  a  gentle- 
man, whose  star  and  riband,  as  well  as  the  unmistakable 
beauty  of  his  Phidian  countenance,  proclaims  him  to  be  a 
member  of  Britain^  s  aristocracy. 

Two  ragged  youths,  the  one  tall,  gaunt,  clumsy,  and 
scrofulous;  the  other  with  a  wild,  careless,  beautiful  look, 
evidently  indicating  Race,  are  gazing  in  at  the  window,  not 
merely  at  the  crowd  in  the  celebrated  Club,  but  at  Timothy, 
the  waiter,  who  is  removing  a  plate  of  that  exquisite  dish, 
the  muffin  (then  newly  invented)  at  the  desire  of  some  of 
the  revellers  within. 

"I  would,  Sam,"  said  the  wild  youth  to  his  companion, 
^^that  I  had  some  of  my  Mother  Macclesfield's  gold,  to 
enable  us  to  eat  of  those  cates  and  mingle  with  yon  spring- 
aids  and  beaux." 

"To  vaunt  a  knowledge  of  the  stoical  philosophy,"  said 
the  youth  addressed  as  Sam,  "  might  elicit  a  smile  of  in- 
credulity upon  the  cheek  of  the  parasite  of  pleasure;  but 
there  are  moments  in  life  when  History  fortifies  endurance; 
and  past  study  renders  present  deprivation  more  bearable. 
If  our  pecuniary  resources  be  exiguous,  let  our  resolution, 
Dick,  supply  the  deficiencies  of  Fortune.  The  muffin  we 
desire  to-day  would  little  benefit  us  to-morrow.  Poor  and 
hungry,  as  we  are,  are  we  less  happy,  Dick,  than  yon  list- 
less voluptuary  who  banquets  on  the  food  which  you  covet?  " 

And  the  two  lads  turned  away  up  Waterloo  Place  and 


12  NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 

past  the  Parthenon  Club-House  and  disappeared  to  take  a 
meal  of  cow-heel  at  a  neighbouring  cook's  shop.  Their 
names  were  Samuel  Johnson  and  Kichard  Savage. 

Meanwhile  the  conversation  at  Button's  was  fast  and 
brilliant.  ^'By  Wood's  thirteens,  and  the  divvle  go  wid 
^em/'  cried  the  Church  dignitary  in  the  cassock.  "Is  it  in 
blue  and  goold  ye  are  this  morning,  Sir  Richard,  when  you 
ought  to  be  in  seebles?  " 

"Who's  dead,  Dean?"  said  the  nobleman,  the  dean's 
companion. 

"Faix,  mee  Lard  Bolingbroke,  as  sure  as  mee  name's 
Jonathan  Swift — and  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that  neither,  for 
who  knows  his  father's  name? — there's  been  a  mighty 
cruel  murther  committed  entirely.  A  child  of  Dick  Steele's 
has  been  barbarously  slain,  dthrawn,  and  quarthered,  and 
it's  Joe  Addison  yondther  has  done  it.  Ye  should  have 
killed  one  of  your  own,  Joe,  ye  thief  of  the  world." 

"  I?  "  said  the  amazed  and  Eight  Honourable  Joseph 
Addison;  "I  kill  Dick's  child!  I  was  God-father  to  the 
last." 

"And  promised  a  cup  and  never  sent  it,"  Dick  ejacu- 
lated.   Joseph  looked  grave. 

"  The  child  I  mean  is  Sir  Eoger  de  Coverley,  Knight  and 
Baronet.  What  made  ye  kill  him,  ye  savage  Mohock? 
The  whole  town  is  in  tears  about  the  good  knight;  all  the 
ladies  at  Church  this  afternoon  were  in  mourning;  all  the 
booksellers  are  wild;  and  Lintot  says  not  a  third  of  the 
copies  of  the  Spectator  are  sold  since  the  death  of  the  brave 
old  gentleman."  And  the  Dean  of  St.  Patrick's  pulled  out 
the  Spectator  newspaper,  containing  the  well-known  pas- 
sage regarding  Sir  Roger's  death.  "I  bought  it  but  now 
in  Wellington  Street,"  he  said;  "the  newsboys  were  howl- 
ing all  down  the  Strand." 

"  What  a  miracle  is  Genius — Genius,  the  Divine  and 
Beautiful,"  said  a  gentleman  leaning  against  the  same  fire- 
place with  the  deformed  cavalier  in  iron-grey  and  address- 
ing that  individual  who  was  in  fact  Mr.  Alexander  Pope, 
"what  a  marvellous  gift  is  this,  and  royal  privilege  of 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


13 


Art !  To  make  the  Ideal  more  credible  than  the  Actual : 
to  enchain  our  hearts,  to  command  our  hopes,  our  regrets, 
our  tears,  for  a  mere  brain-born  Emanation :  to  invest  with 
life  the  Incorporeal,  and  to  glamour  the  cloudy  into  sub- 
stance— these  are  the  lofty  privileges  of  the  Poet,  if  I  have 
read  poesy  aright;  and  I  am  as  familiar  with  the  sounds 
that  rang  from  Homer^s  lyre,  as  with  the  strains  which 
celebrate  the  loss  of  Belinda's  lovely  locks,  (Mr.  Pope 
blushed  and  bowed,  highly  delighted) — "these,  I  say,  sir, 
are  the  privileges  of  the  Poet — the  Poietes — the  Maker, 
he  moves  the  world,  and  asks  no  lever;  if  he  cannot  charm 
death  into  life  as  Orpheus  feigned  to  do,  he  can  create 
Beauty  out  of  Naught,  and  defy  Death  by  rendering 
Thought  Eternal !    Ho !    Jemmy,  another  flask  of  Nantz." 

And  the  boy — for  he  who  addressed  the  most  brilliant 
company  of  wits  in  Europe  was  little  more — emptied  the 
contents  of  the  brandy-flask  in  a  silver  flagon,  and  quaffed 
it  gaily  to  the  health  of  the  company  assembled.  'Twas 
the  third  he  had  taken  during  the  sitting.  Presently,  and 
with  a  graceful  salute  to  the  Society,  he  quitted  the  coffee- 
house, and  was  seen  cantering  on  a  magnificent  Arab  past 
the  National  Gallery. 

"Who  is  yon  spark  in  blue  and  silver?  He  beats  Joe 
Addison  himself  in  drinking,  and  pious  Joe  is  the  greatest 
toper  in  the  three  kingdoms,  Dick  Steele  said  good-nat- 
uredly. 

"  His  paper  in  the  Spectator  beats  thy  best,  Dick,  thou 
sluggard,^'  the  Eight  Honourable  Mr.  Addison  exclaimed. 
"He  is  the  author  of  that  famous  No.  996  for  which  you 
have  all  been  giving  me  the  credit." 

"The  rascal  foiled  me  at  capping  verses,'^  Dean  Swift 
said,  "  and  won  a  tenpenny  piece  of  me,  plague  take  him ! 

"  He  has  suggested  an  emendation  in  my  '  Homer,' 
which  proves  him  a  delicate  scholar,"  Mr.  Pope  exclaimed. 

"  He  knows  more  of  the  French  king  than  any  man  I 
have  met  with;  and  we  must  have  an  eye  upon  him,"  said 
Lord  Bolingbroke,  then  Secretary  of  State  for  Foreign 
Affairs,  and  beckoning  a  suspicious-looking  person  who 


14 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


was  drinking  at  a  side-table,  whispered  to  him  some- 
thing. 

Meantime  who  was  he?  where  was  he,  this  youth  who 
had  struck  all  the  wits  of  London  with  admiration?  His 
galloping  charger  had  returned  to  the  City;  his  splendid 
court-suit  was  doffed  for  the  citizen's  gabardine  and  grocer's 
humble  apron. 

George  de  Barnwell  was  in  Chepe — in  Chepe,  at  the 
knees  of  Martha  Millwood. 


VOL.  III. 

THE  CONDEMNED  CELL. 

Quid  me  mollihus  implicas  lacertisy  my  EUinor?  Nay,'' 
George  added,  a  faint  smile  illumining  his  wan'  but  noble 
features,  "  why  speak  to  thee  in  the  accents  of  the  Roman 
poet,  which  thou  comprehendest  not?  Bright  One,  there 
be  other  things  in  Life,  in  Nature,  in  this  Inscrutable 
Labyrinth,  this  Heart  on  which  thou  leanest,  which  are 
equally  unintelligible  to  thee !  Yes,  my  pretty  one,  what 
is  the  Unintelligible  but  the  Ideal;  what  is  the  Ideal  but 
the  Beautiful?  what  the  Beautiful  but  the  Eternal?  And 
the  Spirit  of  Man  that  would  commune  with  these  is  like 
Him  who  wanders  by  the  thina  poluphloisboio  thalasses, 
and  shrinks  awe-struck  before  that  Azure  Mystery." 

Emily's  eyes  filled  with  fresh  gushing  dew.  "Speak 
on,  speak  ever  thus,  my  George,"  she  exclaimed.  Barn- 
well's chains  rattled  as  the  confiding  girl  clung  to  him. 
Even  Snoggin,  the  Turnkey,  appointed  to  sit  with  the 
Prisoner,  was  affected  by  his  noble  and  appropriate  lan- 
guage, and  also  burst  into  tears.  "  You  weep,  my  Snoggin, " 
the  Boy  said,  "  and  why?  Hath  Life  been  so  charming  to 
me  that  I  should  wish  to  retain  it?  Hath  Pleasure  no 
after- Weariness ?  Ambition  no  Deception ;  Wealth  no  Care ; 
and  Glory  no  Mockery?  Psha!  I  am  sick  of  Success, 
palled  of  Pleasure,  weary  of  Wine,  and  Wit — and — nay, 
start  not,  my  Adelaide — and  Woman.    I  fling  away  all 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS.  15 


these  things  as  the  Toys  of  Boyhood.  Life  is  the  Soul's 
Nursery.  I  am  a  Man  and  pine  for  the  Illimitable! 
Mark  you  me !  Has  the  Morrow  any  terrors  for  me,  think 
ye?  Did  Socrates  falter  at  his  poison?  Did  Seneca  blench 
in  his  bath?  Did  Brutus  shirk  the  sword  when  his  Great 
Stake  was  lost?  Did  even  weak  Cleopatra  shrink  from  the 
Serpent's  fatal  nip?  and  why  should  I?  My  great  Hazard 
hath  been  played,  and  I  pay  my  forfeit.  Lie  sheathed  in 
my  heart,  thou  flashing  Blade !  Welcome  to  my  Bosom, 
thou  faithful  Serpent!  I  hug  thee,  peace-bearing  Image 
of  the  Eternal !  Ha,  the  hemlock  cup !  Fill  high,  boy, 
for  my  soul  is  thirsty  for  the  Infinite !  Get  ready  the 
bath,  friends;  prepare  me  for  the  feast  of  To-morrow — • 
bathe  my  limbs  in  odours  and  put  ointment  in  my  hair." 

^^Has  for  a  bath,"  Snoggin  interposed,  "they're  not  to 
be  ad  in  this  ward  of  the  prison;  but  I  dussay  Hemmy 
will  git  you  a  little  hoil  for  your  air. " 

The  Prisoned  One  laughed  loud  and  merrily.  "My 
guardian  understands  me  not,  pretty  one — and  thou?  what 
sayst  thou?  from  those  dear  lips  methinks — plura  sunt 
oscula  quam  sententice  I  kiss  away  thy  tears,  dove ! — they 
will  flow  apace  when  I  am  gone,  then  they  will  dry,  and 
presently  these  fair  eyes  will  shine  on  another,  as  they 
have  beamed  on  poor  George  Barnwell.  Yet  wilt  thou  not 
all  forget  him,  sweet  one.  He  was  an  honest  fellow,  and 
had  a  kindly  heart  for  all  the  world  said  " 

"That,  that  he  had,"  cried  the  gaoler  and  the  girl  in 
voices  gurgling  with  emotion.  And  you  who  read!  you, 
unconvicted  Convict — you,  murderer,  though  haply  you 
have  slain  no  one — you.  Felon  in  posse,  if  not  in  esse — deal 
gently  with  one  who  has  used  the  Opportunity  that  has 
failed  thee — and  believe  that  the  Truthful  and  the  Beauti- 
ful bloom  sometimes  in  the  dock  and  the  convict's  tawny 
Gabardine ! 

In  the  matter  for  which  he  suffered,  George  could  never 
be  brought  to  acknowledge  that  he  was  at  all  in  the  wrong. 
"It  may  be  an  error  of  judgment,"  he  said  to  the  Vener- 


16 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


able  Chaplain  of  the  gaol,  "but  it  is  no  crime.  Were  it 
Crime,  I  should  feel  Eemorse.  Where  there  is  no  Re- 
morse, Crime  cannot  exist.  I  am  not  sorry;  therefore,  I 
am  innocent.    Is  the  proposition  a  fair  one? 

The  excellent  Doctor  admitted  that  it  was  not  to  be 
contested. 

And  wherefore,  Sir,  should  I  have  sorrow,"  the  Boy- 
resumed,  "for  ridding  the  world  of  a  sordid  worm;^  of  a 
man  whose  very  soul  was  dross,  and  who  never  had  a  feel- 
ing for  the  Truthful  and  the  Beautiful?  When  I  stood 
before  my  uncle  in  the  moonlight  in  the  gardens  of  the 
ancestral  halls  of  the  De  Barnwells,  I  felt  that  I  was  the 
Kemesis  come  to  overthrow  him.  '  Dog,'  I  said  to  the 
trembling  slave,  '  tell  me  where  thy  Gold  is.  Thou  hast 
no  use  for  it.  I  can  spend  it  in  relieving  the  Poverty  on 
which  thou  tramplest;  in  aiding  Science,  which  thou  know- 
est  not;  in  uplifting  Art,  to  which  thou  art  blind.  Give 
Gold,  and  thou  art  free ! '  But  he  spake  not,  and  I  slew 
him." 

"I  would  not  have  this  doctrine  vulgarly  promulgated," 
said  the  admirable  chaplain,  "  for  its  general  practice  might 
chance  to  do  harm.  Thou,  my  son,  the  Refined,  the  Gen- 
tle, the  Loving  and  Beloved,  the  Poet  and  Sage,  urged  by 
what  I  cannot  but  think  a  grievous  error,  hast  appeared  as 
Avenger.  Think  what  would  be  the  world's  condition, 
were  men  without  any  Yearning  after  the  Ideal  to  attempt 
to  reorganise  Society,  to  redistribute  Property,  to  avenge 
Wrong." 

"A  rabble  of  pigmies  scaling  Heaven,"  said  the  noble 
though  misguided  young  Prisoner.  "Prometheus  was  a 
Giant,  and  he  fell." 

*Thi9  is  a  gross  plagiarism:  the  above  sentiment  is  expressed 
much  more  eloquently  in  the  ingenious  romance  of  "  Eugene  Aram  " : 
— "The  burning  desire  I  have  known — the  resplendent  visions  I 
have  nursed— the  sublime  aspirings  that  have  lifted  me  so  often 
from  sense  and  clay :  these  tell  me  that  whether  for  good  or  ill,  I  am 
the  thing  of  an  immortality,  and  the  creature  of  a  God.  ...  I  have 
destroyed  a  man  noxious  to  the  world ;  with  the  wealth  by  which 
he  afflicted  society,  I  have  been  the  means  of  blessing  many." 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


17 


"  Yes,  indeed,  my  brave  youth ! "  the  benevolent  Dr. 
Fuzwig  exclaimed,  clasping  the  Prisoner's  marble  and 
manacled  hand;  "and  the  Tragedy  of  To-morrow  will 
teach  the  World  that  Homicide  is  not  to  be  permitted  even 
to  the  most  amiable  Genius,  and  that  the  lover  of  the  Ideal 
and  Beautiful,  as  thou  art,  my  son,  must  respect  the  Eeal 
likewise." 

"  Look !  here  is  supper !  "  cried  Barnwell  gaily.  "  This 
is  the  Eeal,  Doctor;  let  us  respect  it  and  fall  to.''  He 
partook  of  the  meal  as  joyously  as  if  it  had  been  one  of 
his  early  festals;  but  the  worthy  chaplain  could  scarcely 
eat  it  for  tears. 


18 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


CODLINGSBY. 

By  B.  De  Shrewsbury,  Esq. 

"  The  whole  world  is  bound  by  one  chain.  In  every  city 
in  the  globe  there  is  one  quarter  that  certain  travellers 
know  and  recognise  from  its  likeness  to  its  brother-district 
in  all  other  places  where  are  congregated  the  habitation  of 
men.  In  Tehran,  or  Pekin,  or  Stamboul,  or  New  York, 
or  Timbuctoo,  or  London,  there  is  a  certain  district  where 
a  certain  man  is  not  a  stranger.  Where  the  idols  are  fed 
with  incense  by  the  streams  of  Ching-wang-foo;  where  the 
minarets  soar  sparkling  above  the  cypresses,  their  reflex- 
ions quivering  in  the  lucid  waters  of  the  Golden  Horn; 
where  the  yellow  Tiber  flows  under  broken  bridges  and 
over  imperial  glories;  where  the  huts  are  squatted  by  the 
Niger,  under  the  palm-trees;  where  the  Northern  Babel 
lies,  with  its  warehouses  and  its  bridges,  its  graceful  fac- 
tory-chimneys, and  its  clumsy  fanes — hidden  in  fog  and 
smoke  by  the  dirtiest  river  in  the  world — in  all  the  cities 
of  mankind  there  is  One  Home  whither  men  of  one  family 
may  resort.  Over  the  entire  world  spreads  a  vast  brother- 
hood, suffering,  silent,  scattered,  sympathising,  waiting — ■ 
an  immense  Free-Masonry.  Once  this  world-spread  band 
was  an  Arabian  clan — a  little  nation  alone  and  outlying 
amongst  the  mighty  monarchies  of  ancient  time,  the 
Megatheria  of  history.  The  sails  of  their  rare  ships  might 
be  seen  in  the  Egyptian  waters;  the  camels  of  their  cara- 
vans might  thread  the  sands  of  Baalbec,  or  wind  through 
the  date-groves  of  Damascus;  their  flag  was  raised,  not 
in  gloriously,  in  many  wars,  against  mighty  odds;  but 
Hwas  a  small  people,  and  on  one  dark  night  the  Lion  of 
Judah  went  down  before  Vespasian's  Eagles,  and  in  flame, 
and  death,  and  struggle,  Jerusalem  agonised  and  died.  .  .  . 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS.  19 

Yes,  the  Jewish  city  is  lost  to  Jewish  men;  but  have  they 
not  taken  the  world  in  exchange?  " 

Mused  thus  Godfrey  de  Bouillon,  Marquis  of  Codlingsby, 
as  he  debouched  from  Wych  Street  into  the  Strand,  He 
had  been  to  take  a  box  for  Armida  at  Madame  Vestris's 
theatre.  That  little  Armida  was  folle  of  Madame  Vestris's 
theatre;  and  her  little  Brougham,  and  her  little  self,  and 
her  enormous  eyes,  and  her  prodigious  opera-glass,  and  her 
miraculous  bouquet,  which  cost  Lord  Codlingsby  twenty 
guineas  every  evening  at  Nathan's  in  Covent  Garden  (the 
children  of  the  gardeners  of  Sharon  have  still  no  rival  for 
flowers),  might  be  seen  three  nights  in  the  week  at  least, 
in  the  narrow,  charming,  comfortable  little  theatre,  God- 
frey had  the  box.  He  was  strolling  listlessly  eastward, 
and  the  above  thoughts  passed  through  the  young  noble's 
mind  as  he  came  in  sight  of  Holywell  Street. 

The  occupants  of  the  London  Ghetto  sat  at  their  porches 
basking  in  the  evening  sunshine.  Children  were  playing 
on  the  steps.  Fathers  were  smoking  at  the  lintel.  Smil- 
ing faces  looked  out  from  the  various  and  darkling  dra- 
peries with  which  the  warehouses  were  hung.  Kinglets 
glossy,  and  curly,  and  jetty  eyes  black  as  night — midsum- 
mer night — when  it  lightens ;  haughty  noses  bending  like 
beaks  of  eagles — eager  quivering  nostrils — lips  curved  like 
the  bow  of  Love — every  man  or  maiden,  every  babe  or 
matron  in  that  English  Jewry  bore  in  his  countenance  one 
or  more  of  these  characteristics  of  his  peerless  Arab  race. 

"How  beautiful  they  are!"  mused  Codlingsby,  as  he 
surveyed  these  placid  groups  calmly  taking  their  pleasure 
in  the  sunset. 

"  D*you  vant  to  look  at  a  nishe  coat?  ''  a  voice  said,  which 
made  him  start ;  and  then  some  one  behind  him  began  hand- 
ling a  master-piece  of  Stultz's  with  a  familiarity  which 
would  have  made  the  Baron  tremble. 

"  Eaf ael  Mendoza ! ''  exclaimed  Godfrey. 

"The  same,  Lord  Codlingsby,''  the  individual  so  apos- 
trophised replied.  "I  told  you  we  should  meet  again 
where  you  would  little  expect  me.    Will  it  please  you  to 


20 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


enter?  This  is  Friday,  and  we  close  at  sunset.  It  rejoices 
my  heart  to  welcome  you  home.'^  So  saying,  Eafael  laid 
his  hand  on  his  breast  and  bowed,  an  Oriental  reverence. 
All  traces  of  the  accent  with  which  he  first  addressed  Lord 
Codlingsby  had  vanished ;  it  was  a  disguise ;  half  the  He- 
brew's life  is  a  disguise.  He  shields  himself  in  craft, 
since  the  Norman  boors  persecuted  him. 

They  passed  under  an  awning  of  old  clothes,  tawdry 
fripperies,  greasy  spangles,  and  battered  masks,  into  a 
shop  as  black  and  hideous  as  the  entrance  was  foul.  "  This 
your  home,  Eafael?    said  Lord  Codlingsby. 

"Why  not?''  Eafael  answered.  "I  am  tired  of  Schloss 
Schinkenstein,  the  Ehine  bores  me  after  a  while.  It  is  too 
hot  for  Florence;  besides  they  have  not  completed  the  pic- 
ture-gallery, and  my  palace  smells  of  putty.  You  wouldn't 
have  a  man,  mon  cher,  bury  himself  in  his  chateau  in  Nor- 
mandy, out  of  the  hunting  season.  The  Eugantino  Palace 
stupifies  me.  Those  Titians  are  so  gloomy.  I  shall  have 
my  Hobbimas  and  Teniers,  I  think,  from  my  house  at  the 
Hague,  hung  over  them." 

"  How  many  castles,  palaces,  houses,  warehouses,  shops, 
have  you,  Eafael?  "  Lord  Codlingsby  asked,  laughing. 

"This  is  one,"  Eafael  answered.    "Come  in." 


The  noise  in  the  old  town  was  terrific ;  Great  Tom  was 
booming  sullenly  over  the  uproar;  the  bell  of  Saint  Mary's 
was  clanging  with  alarm;  St.  Giles's  tocsin  chimed  fu- 
riously ;  howls,  curses,  flights  of  brickbats,  stones  shivering 
windows,  groans  of  wounded  men,  cries  of  frightened 
females,  cheers  of  either  contending  party  as  it  charged  the 
enemy  from  Carfax  to  Trumpington  Street,  proclaimed 
that  the  battle  was  at  its  height. 

In  Berlin  they  would  have  said  it  was  a  revolution,  and 
the  cuirassiers  would  have  been  charging,  sabre  in  hand, 
amidst  that  infuriate  mob.  In  France  they  would  have 
brought  down  artillery  and  played  on  it  with  twenty-four 
pounders.  In  Cambridge  nobody  heeded  the  disturbance — 
it  was  a  Town  and  Gown  row. 


KOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS.  21 


The  row  arose  at  a  boat-race.  The  Town  boat  (manned 
by  eight  stout  bargees,  with  the  redoubted  Eullock  for 
stroke)  had  bumped  the  Brazennose  light  oar,  usually  at 
the  head  of  the  river.  High  words  arose  regarding  the 
dispute.  After  returning  from  Granchester,  when  the 
boats  pulled  back  to  Christchurch  meadows,  the  disturb- 
ance between  the  Townsmen  and  the  University  youths — 
their  invariable  opponents — grew  louder  and  more  violent, 
until  it  broke  out  in  open  battle.  Sparring  and  skirmish- 
ing took  place  along  the  pleasant  fields  that  lead  from  the 
University  gate  down  to  the  broad  and  shining  waters  of 
the  Cam  and  under  the  walls  of  Baliol  and  Sidney  Sussex. 
The  Duke  of  Bellamont  (then  a  dashing  young  sizar  at 
Exeter)  had  a  couple  of  rounds  with  Billy  Butt,  the  bow 
oar  of  the  Bargee  boat.  Vavaseur  of  Brazennose  was  en- 
gaged with  a  powerful  butcher,  a  well-known  champion  of 
the  Town  party,  when,  the  great  University  bells  ringing 
to  dinner,  truce  was  called  between  the  combatants  and 
they  retired  to  their  several  colleges  for  refection. 

During  the  boat-race,  a  gentleman  pulling  in  a  canoe, 
and  smoking  a  Nargilly,  had  attracted  no  ordinary  atten- 
tion. He  rowed  about  a  hundred  yards  ahead  of  the  boats 
in  the  race,  so  that  he  could  have  a  good  view  of  that 
curious  pastime.  If  the  eight-oars  neared  him,  with  a  few 
rapid  strokes  of  his  flashing  paddles  his  boat  shot  a  furlong 
ahead;  then  he  would  wait,  surveying  the  race,  and  send- 
ing up  volumes  of  odour  from  his  cool  Nargilly. 

"Who  is  he?'^  asked  the  crowds  who  panted  along  the 
shore,  encouraging,  according  to  Cambridge  wont,  the 
efforts  of  the  oarsmen  in  the  race.  Town  and  Gown  alike 
asked  who  it  was,  who,  with  an  ease  so  provoking  in  a 
barque  so  singular,  with  a  form  seemingly  so  slight,  but  a 
skill  so  prodigious,  beat  their  best  men.  No  answer 
could  be  given  to  the  query,  save  that  a  gentleman  in  a 
dark  travelling-chariot,  preceded  by  six  fourgons  and  a 
courier,  had  arrived  the  day  before  at  the  Hoop  Inn,  oppo- 
site Brazennose,  and  that  the  stranger  of  the  canoe  seemed 
to  be  the  individual  in  question. 


22  NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 

No  wonder  the  boat,  that  all  admired  so,  could  compete 
with  any  that  ever  was  wrought  by  Cambridge  artificer  or 
Putney  workman.  That  boat — slim,  shining,  and  shoot- 
ing through  the  water  like  a  pike  after  a  small  fish — was  a 
caique  from  Tophana — it  had  distanced  the  Sultan's  oars- 
men, and  the  best  crews  of  the  Capitan  Pasha  in  the  Bos- 
phorus;  it  was  the  workmanship .  of  Togrul-Beg,  Caikjee 
Bashee  of  his  Highness.  The  Bashee  had  refused  fifty 
thousand  tomauns  from  Count  Boutenieff ,  the  Russian  Am- 
bassador,  for  that  little  marvel.  When  his  head  was  taken 
off,  the  Father  of  Believers  presented  the  boat  to  Eafael 
Mendoza. 

It  was  Eafael  Mendoza  that  saved  the  Turkish  Monarchy 
after  the  battle  of  Nezeeb.  By  sending  three  millions  of 
piastres  to  the  Seraskier;  by  bribing  Colonel  De  St.  Cor- 
nichon,  the  French  envoy  in  the  camp  of  the  victorious 
Ibrahim,  the  march  of  the  Egyptian  army  was  stopped — 
the  menaced  empire  of  the  Ottomans  was  saved  from  ruin ; 
the  Marchioness  of  Stokepogis,  our  Ambassador's  lady, 
appeared  in  a  suit  of  diamonds  which  outblazed  even  the 
Eomanoff  jewels,  and  Eafael  Mendoza  obtained  the  little 
caique.  He  never  travelled  without  it.  It  was  scarcely 
heavier  than  an  arm-chair.  Baroni,  the  courier,  had  car- 
ried it  down  to  the  Cam  that  morning,  and  Eafael  had  seen 
the  singular  sport  which  we  have  mentioned. 

The  dinner  over,  the  young  men  rnshed  from  their  col- 
leges, flushed,  full-fed,  and  eager  for  battle.  If  the  Gown 
was  angry,  the  Town,  too,  was  on  the  alert.  From  Iffley 
and  Barnwell,  from  factory  and  mill,  from  wharf  and  ware- 
house, the  Town  poured  out  to  meet  their  enemy,  and  the 
battle  was  soon  general.  From  the  Addenbrooke's  hospi- 
tal to  the  Blenheim  turnpike,  all  Cambridge  was  in  an  up- 
roar— the  College  gates  closed — the  shops  barricaded — the 
shop-boys  away  in  support  of  their  brother  townsmen — the 
battle  raged,  and  the  Gown  had  the  worst  of  the  fight. 

A  luncheon  of  many  courses  had  been  .provided  for 
Eafael  Mendoza  at  his  inn,  but  he  smiled  at  the  clumsy 
efforts  of  the  University  cooks  to  entertain  him,  and  a 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


23 


couple  of  dates  and  a  glass  of  water  formed  his  meal.  In 
vain  the  discomfited  landlord  pressed  him  to  partake  of  the 
slighted  banquet.  "A  breakfast!  psha!  said  he.  "My 
good  man,  I  have  nineteen  cooks,  at  salaries  rising  from 
four  hundred  a  year.  I  can  have  a  dinner  at  any  hour, 
but  a  Town  and  Gown  row  (a  brickbat  here  flying  through 
the  window  crashed  the  caraffe  of  water  in  Mendoza^s 
hand) — a  Town  and  Gown  row  is  a  novelty  to  me.  The 
Town  has  the  best  of  it,  clearly,  though ;  the  men  outnum- 
ber the  lads.  Ha,  a  good  blow!  How  that  tall  townsman 
went  down  before  yonder  slim  young  fellow  in  the  scarlet 
trencher-cap.^^ 

"  That  is  the  Lord  Codlingsby,^^  the  landlord  said. 

"A  light  weight,  but  a  pretty  fighter,"  Mendoza  re- 
marked. "  Well  hit  with  your  left,  Lord  Codlingsby,  well 
parried.  Lord  Codlingsby ;  claret  drawn,  by  Jupiter !  " 

"Ours  is  werry  fine,"  the  landlord  said.  "Will  your 
highness  have  Chateau  Margaux  or  Laffitte?  " 

"  He  never  can  be  going  to  match  himself  against  that 
bargeman,"  Eafael  exclaimed,  as  an  enormous  boatman — 
no  other  than  Eullock — indeed,  the  most  famous  bruiser  of 
Cambridge,  and  before  whose  fists  the  gownsmen  went 
down  like  ninepins,  fought  his  way  up  to  the  spot  where, 
with  admirable  spirit  and  resolution.  Lord  Codlingsby  and 
one  or  two  of  his  friends  were  making  head  against  a  num- 
ber of  the  Town. 

The  young  noble  faced  the  huge  champion  with  the  gal- 
lantry of  his  race,  but  was  no  match  for  the  enemy^s 
strength,  and  weight,  and  sinew,  and  went  down  at  every 
round.  The  brutal  fellow  had  no  mercy  on  the  lad.  The 
savage  treatment  chafed  Mendoza  as  he  viewed  the  unequal 
combat  from  the  inn-window.  "Hold  your  hand!"  he 
cried  to  this  Goliath ;  "  don^t  you  see  he's  but  a  boy?  " 

"Down  he  goes  again!  "  the  bargeman  cried,  not  heeding 
the  interruption.  "  Down  he  goes  again !  I  likes  wapping 
a  Lord!" 

"  Coward !  "  shouted  Mendoza,  and  to  fling  open  the  win- 
dow amidst  a  shower  of  brickbats,  to  vault  over  the  bal- 
2 — Vol.  19 


It 


24 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


cony,  to  slide  down  one  of  the  pillars  to  the  ground,  was 
an  instant's  work. 

At  the  next  he  stood  before  the  enormous  bargeman. 
•  •  •  •  . 

After  the  Coroner's  inquest,  Mendoza  gave  ten  thousand 
pounds  to  each  of  the  bargeman's  ten  children,  and  it  was 
thus  his  first  acquaintance  was  formed  with  Lord  Cod- 
lingsby. 

But  we  are  lingering  on  the  threshold  of  the  house  in 
Holywell  Street     Let  us  go  in ! 


Godfrey  and  Eaf ael  passed  from  the  street  into  the  outer 
shop  of  the  old  mansion  in  Holywell  Street.  It  was  a 
masquerade  warehouse,  to  all  appearance.  A  dark-eyed 
damsel  of  the  nation  was  standing  at  the  dark  and  grimy 
counter,  strewed  with  old  feathers,  old  yellow  boots,  old 
stage  mantles,  painted  masks,  blind,  and  yet  gazing  at  you 
with  a  look  of  sad  death-like  intelligence  from  the  vacancy 
behind  their  sockets. 

A  medical  student  was  trying  one  of  the  doublets  of 
orange-tawney  and  silver,  slashed  with  dirty  light  blue. 
He  was  going  to  a  masquerade  that  night.  He  thought 
Polly  Pattens  would  admire  him  in  the  dress — Polly  Pat- 
tens, the  fairest  of  maids-of-all-work — the  Borough  Venus, 
adored  by  half  the  youth  of  Guy's. 

"  You  look  like  a  Prince  in  it,  Mr.  Lint,"  pretty  Eachael 
said,  coaxing  him  with  her  beady  black  eyes. 

*^It  is  the  cheese,"  replied  Mr.  Lint;  ^4t  ain't  the  dress 
that  don't  suit,  my  rose  of  Sharon,  it's  the  figure.  Hullo, 
Eaf  ael,  is  that  you,  my  lad  of  sealing-wax!  Come  and 
intercede  for  me  with  this  wild  gazelle;  she  says  I  can't 
have  it  under  fifteen  bob  for  the  night.  And  it's  too  much ; 
cuss  me  if  it's  not  too  much,  unless  you'll  take  my  little 
bill  at  two  months,  Eaf  ael." 

"  There's  a  sweet  pretty  brigand's  dress  you  may  have 
for  half  de  monish,"  Eafael  replied;  "there's  a  splendid 
clown  for  eight  bob ;  but  for  dat  Spanish  dress,  selp  ma 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


25 


Moshesh,  Mdshter  Lint,  ve'd  ask  a  guinea  of  any  but  you. 
Kerens  a  gentlemansh  just  come  to  look  at  it.  Look  'ear, 
Mr.  Brownsh,  did  you  ever  shee  a  nisher  ting  dan  dat? 
So  saying,  Eafael  turned  to  Lord  Codlingsby  with  the  ut- 
most gravity  and  displayed  to  him  the  garment  about  which 
the  young  Medicus  was  haggling. 

Cheap  at  the  money,"  Codlingsby  replied;  "if  you 
won't  make  up  your  mind,  sir,  I  should  like  to  engage  it 
myself."  But  the  thought  that  another  should  appear  be- 
fore Polly  Pattens  in  that  costume  was  too  much  for  Mr. 
Lint ;  he  agreed  to  pay  the  fifteen  shillings  for  the  garment. 
And  Eafael  pocketing  the  money  with  perfect  simplicity, 
said,  "Dis  vay,  Mr.  Brownsh;  dere's  someting  vill  shoot 
you  in  the  next  shop." 

Lord  Codlingsby  followed  him,  wondering. 

"  You  are  surprised  at  our  system,"  said  Eafael,  marking 
the  evident  bewilderment  of  his  friend.  "Confess  you 
would  call  it  meanness — my  huxtering  with  yonder  young 
fool.  I  call  it  simplicity.  Why  throw  away  a  shilling 
without  need?  Our  race  never  did.  A  shilling  is  four 
men's  bread:  shall  I  disdain  to  defile  my  fingers  by  hold- 
ing them  out  relief  in  their  necessity?  It  is  you  who  are 
mean — you  Normans — not  we  of  the  ancient  race.  You 
have  your  vulgar  measurement  for  great  things  and  small. 
You  call  a  thousand  pounds  respectable  and  a  shekel  des- 
picable. Psha,  my  Codlingsby !  One  is  as  the  other.  I 
trade  in  pennies  and  in  millions.  I  am  above  or  below 
neither." 

They  were  passing  through  a  second  shop,  smelling 
strongly  of  cedar,  and,  in  fact,  piled  up  with  bales  of  those 
pencils  which  the  young  Hebrews  are  in  the  habit  of  vend- 
ing through  the  streets.  "  I  have  sold  bundles  and  bundles 
of  these,"  said  Eafael.  "My  little  brother  is  now  out 
with  oranges  in  Piccadilly.  I  am  bringing  him  up  to  be 
head  of  our  house  at  Amsterdam.  We  all  do  it.  I  had 
myself  to  see  Eothschild  in  Eaton  Place  this  morning, 
about  the  Irish  loan,  of  which  I  have  taken  three  millions; 
and  as  I  wanted  to  walk,  I  carried  the  bag. 


26 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


"  You  should  have  seen  the  astonishment  of  Lauda  Laty- 
mer,  the  Archbishop  of  Croydon's  daughter,  as  she  was 
passing  to  St.  Bennet's,  Knightsbridge,  and  as  she  fancied 
she  recognised  in  the  man  who  was  crying  old  clothes  the 
gentleman  with  whom  she  had  talked  at  the  Count  de  Saint 
Aulaire's  the  night  before."  Something  like  a  blush  flushed 
over  the  pale  features  of  Mendoza  as  he  mentioned  the 
Lady  Lauda's  name.  "Come  on,"  said  he.  They  passed 
through  various  warehouses — the  orange  room,  the  sealing- 
wax  room,  the  six-bladed-knife  department,  and  finally 
came  to  an  old  baize  door  Eafael  opened  the  baize  door 
by  some  secret  contrivance,  and  they  were  in  a  black  pas- 
sage with  a  curtain  at  the  end. 

He  clapped  his  hands,  the  curtain  at  the  end  of  the  pas- 
sage drew  back,  and  a  flood  of  golden  light  streamed  on  the 
Hebrew  and  his  visitor. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

They  entered  a  moderate-sized  apartment — indeed,  Holy- 
well Street  is  not  above  a  hundred  yards  long,  and  this 
chamber  was  not  more  than  half  that  length — and  fitted 
up  with  the  simple  taste  of  its  owner. 

The  carpet  was  of  white  velvet — (laid  over  several  webs 
of  Aubusson,  Ispahan,  and  Axminster,  so  that  your  foot 
gave  no  more  sound  as  it  trod  upon  the  yielding  plain  than 
the  shadow  did  which  followed  you) — of  white  velvet, 
painted  with  flowers,  arabesques,  and  classic  figures,  by 
Sir  William  Eoss,  J.  M.  Turner,  E.A.,  Mrs.  Mee,  and 
Paul  Delaroche.  The  edges  were  wrought  with  seed-pearls 
and  fringed  with  Valenciennes  lace  and  bullion.  The  walls 
were  hung  with  cloth  of  silver,  embroidered  with  gold  fig- 
ures, over  which  were  worked  pomegranates,  polyanthuses, 
and  passion-flowers,  in  ruby,  amethyst,  and  smaragd.  The 
drops  of  dew  which  the  artificer  had  sprinkled  on  the 
flowers  were  diamonds.  The  hangings  were  over-hung  by 
pictures  yet  more  costly.    Giorgione  the  gorgeous,  Titian 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


27 


the  golden,  Eubens  the  ruddy  and  pulpy  (the  Pan  of  Paint- 
ing), some  of  Murillo's  beautified  shepherdesses,  who  smile 
on  you  out  of  darkness  like  a  star;  a  few  score  first-class 
Leonardos  and  fifty  of  the  master-pieces  of  the  patron  of 
Julius  and  Leo,  the  Imperial  genius  of  XJrbinb  covered  the 
walls  of  the  little  chamber.  Divans  of  carved  amber  cov- 
ered with  ermine  went  round  the  room,  and  in  the  midst 
was  a  fountain,  pattering  and  babbling  with  jets  of  double- 
distilled  otto  of  roses. 

"Pipes,  Goliath Eafael  said  gaily  to  a  little  negro 
with  a  silver  collar  (he  spoke  to  him  in  his  native  tongue 
of  Dongola);  "and  welcome  to  our  snuggery,  my  Cod- 
lingsby.  We  are  quieter  here  than  in  the  front  of  the 
house,  and  I  wanted  to  show  you  a  picture.  I'm  proud  of 
my  picture.  That  Leonardo  came  from  Genoa,  and  was  a 
gift  to  our  father  from  my  cousin.  Marshal  Manasseh;  that 
Murillo  was  pawned  to  my  uncle  by  Marie  Antoinette  be- 
fore the  flight  to  Varennes — the  poor  lady  could  not  redeem 
the  pledge,  you  know,  and  the  picture  remains  with  us. 
As  for  the  Eafael,  I  suppose  you  are  aware  that  he  was  one 
of  our  people.  But  what  are  you  gazing  at?  Oh!  my  sis- 
ter— I  forgot — Miriam!  this  is  the  Lord  Codlingsby.^' 

She  had  been  seated  at  an  ivory  piano-forte  on  a  mother- 
of-pearl  music-stool  trying  a  sonata  of  Herz.  She  rose 
when  thus  apostrophised.  Miriam  de  Mendoza  rose  and 
greeted  the  stranger. 

The  Talmud  relates  that  Adam  had  two  wives — Zillah 
the  dark  beauty;  Eva  the  fair  one.  The  ringlets  of  Zillah 
were  black;  those  of  Eva  were  golden.  The  eyes  of  Zil- 
lah were  night;  those  of  Eva  were  morning.  Codlingsby 
was  fair — of  the  fair  Saxon  race  of  Hengist  and  Horsa — • 
they  called  him  Miss  Codlingsby  at  school :  but  how  much 
fairer  was  Miriam  the  Hebrew ! 

Her  hair  had  that  deep  glowing  tinge  in  it  which  has 
been  the  delight  of  all  painters,  and  which,  therefore,  the 
vulgar  sneer  at.  It  was  of  burning  auburn.  Meandering 
over  her  fairest  shoulders  in  twenty  thousand  minute 
ringlets,  it  hung  to  her  waist  and  below  it.    A  light  blue 


28 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


velvet  fillet  clasped  with  a  diamond  aigrette,  (valued  at  two 
hundred  thousand  tomauns,  and  bought  from  Lieutenant 
Vicovich  who  had  received  it  from  Dost  Mahomed)  with  a 
simple  bird  of  paradise  formed  her  head-gear.  A  sea-green 
cymar  with  short  sleeves,  displayed  her  exquisitely  moulded 
arms  to  perfection,  and  was  fastened  by  a  girdle  of  emer- 
alds over  a  yellow  satin  frock.  Pink  gauze  trowsers  span- 
gled with  silver,  and  slippers  of  the  same  colour  as  the 
band  which  clasped  her  ringlets  (but  so  covered  with  pearls 
that  the  original  hue  of  the  charming  little  papoosh  disap- 
peared entirely)  completed  her  costume.  She  had  three 
necklaces  on,  each  of  which  would  have  dowered  a  Princess 
— her  fingers  glistened  with  rings  to  their  rosy  tips,  and 
priceless  bracelets,  bangles,  and  armlets  wound  round  an 
arm  that  was  whiter  than  the  ivory  grand  piano  on  which 
it  leaned. 

As  Miriam  de  Mendoza  greeted  the  stranger,  turning 
upon  him  the  solemn  welcome  of  her  eyes,  Codlingsby 
swooned  almost  in  the  brightness  of  her  beauty.  It  was 
well  she  spoke;  the  sweet  kind  voice  restored  him  to  con- 
sciousness. Muttering  a  few  words  of  incoherent  recogni- 
tion, he  sank  upon  a  sandal-wood  settee,  as  Goliath,  the 
little  slave,  brought  aromatic  coffee  in  cups  of  opal,  and 
alabaster  spittoons,  and  pipes  of  the  fragrant  Gibelly. 

"My  lord's  pipe  is  out,''  said  Miriam  with  a  smile,  re- 
marking the  bewilderment  of  her  guest — who  in  truth  for- 
got to  smoke — and  taking  up  a  thousand  pound  note  from 
a  bundle  on  the  piano,  she  lighted  it  at  the  taper  and  pro- 
ceeded to  reillume  the  extinguished  chibouk  of  Lord 
Codlingsby. 


When  Miriam,  returning  to  the  mother-of-pearl  music- 
stool,  at  a  signal  from  her  brother  touched  the  silver  and 
enamelled  keys  of  the  ivory  piano,  and  began  to  sing.  Lord 
Codlingsby  felt  as  if  he  were  listening  at  the  gates  of  Para- 
dise, or  were  hearing  Jenny  Lind. 

"Lind  is  a  name  of  the  Hebrew  race;  so  is  Mendelssohn, 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


29 


the  Son  of  Almonds;  so  is  Eosenthal,  the  Valley  of  the 
Eoses;  so  is  Lowe  or  Lewis  or  Lyons  or  Lion — the  beauti- 
ful and  the  brave  alike  give  cognizances  to  the  ancient  peo- 
ple— you  Saxons  call  yourselves  Brown,  or  Smith,  or  Eod- 
gers,"  Eafael  observed  to  his  friend;  and  drawing  the 
instrument  from  his  pocket,  he  accompanied  his  sister,  in 
the  most  ravishing  manner,  on  a  little  gold  and  jewelled 
harp  of  the  kind  peculiar  to  his  nation. 

All  the  airs  which  the  Hebrew  maid  selected  were  writ- 
ten by  composers  of  her  race;  it  was  either  a  hymn  by  Eos- 
sini,  a  polacca  by  Braham,  a  delicious  romance  by  Sloman, 
or  a  melody  by  Weber,  that,  thrilling  on  the  strings  of  the 
instrument,  wakened  a  harmony  on  the  fibres  of  the  heart, 
but  she  sang  no  other  than  the  songs  of  her  nation. 

"Beautiful  one!  sing  ever,  sing  always,'^  Codlingsby 
thought.  "  I  could  sit  at  thy  feet  as  under  a  green  palm- 
tree,  and  fancy  that  Paradise-birds  were  singing  in  the 
boughs." 

Eafael  read  his  thoughts.  "  We  have  Saxon  blood  too  in 
our  veins,"  he  said.  "You  smile,  but  it  is  even  so.  An 
ancestress  of  ours  made  a  mesalliance  in  the  reign  of  your 
King  John.  Her  name  was  Eebecca,  daughter  of  Isaac  of 
York,  and  she  married  in  Spain,  whither  she  had  fled  to 
the  Court  of  King  Boabdil,  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe,  then  a 
widower  by  the  demise  of  his  first  lady  Eowena.  The 
match  was  deemed  a  cruel  insult  amongst  our  people;  but 
Wilfrid  conformed,  and  was  a  Eabbi  of  some  note  at  the 
synagogue  at  Cordova.  We  are  descended  from  him 
lineally.  It  is  the  only  blot  upon  the  escutcheon  of  the 
Mendozas." 

As  they  sate  talking  together,  the  music  finished  and 
Miriam  having  retired  (though  her  song  and  her  beauty 
were  still  present  to  the  soul  of  the  stranger)  at  a  signal 
from  Mendoza,  various  messengers  from  the  outer  apart- 
ments came  in  to  transact  business  with  him. 

First  it  was  Mr.  Aminadab,  who  kissed  his  foot,  and 
brought  papers  to  sign.  "  How  is  the  house  in  Grosvenor 
Square,  Aminadab;  and  is  your  son  tired  of  his  yacht 


30  NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


yet?  Mendoza  asked.  "  That  is  my  twenty-fourth  cashier," 
said  Eafael  to  Codlingsby,  when  the  obsequious  clerk  went 
away.  *^He  is  fond  of  display,  and  all  my  people  may 
have  what  money  they  like." 

Entered  presently  the  Lord  Bareacres,  on  the  affair  of 
his  mortgage.  The  Lord  Bareacres,  strutting  into  the 
apartment  with  a  haughty  air,  shrank  back,  nevertheless, 
with  surprise  on  beholding  the  magnificence  around  him. 
"Little  Mordecai,"  said  Eafael  to  a  little  orange-boy  who 
came  in  at  the  heels  of  the  noble,  "  take  this  gentleman  out 
and  let  him  have  ten  thousand  pounds.  I  can^t  do  more  for 
you,  my  lord,  than  this — I'm  busy.  Good-bye !  "  and  Eafael 
waved  his  hand  to  the  peer  and  fell  to  smoking  his  Nargilly. 

A  man  with  a  square  face,  cat-like  eyes,  and  a  yellow 
moustache,  came  next.  He  had  an  hour-glass  of  a  waist, 
and  walked  uneasily  upon  his  high-heeled  boots.  "Tell 
your  master  that  he  shall  have  two  millions  more,  but  not 
another  shilling,"  Eafael  said.  "That  story  about  the 
five-and-twenty  millions  of  ready  money  at  Cronstadt  is  all 
bosh.  They  won't  believe  it  in  Europe.  You  understand 
me.  Count  Grogomoffski?  " 

"But  his  Imperial  Majesty  said  four  millions,  and  I 
shall  get  the  knout  unless  " 

"  Go  and  speak  to  Mr.  Shadrach,  in  room  Z  94,  the 
fourth  Court,"  said  Mendoza  good-naturedly.  "Leave  me 
at  peace.  Count;  don't  you  see  it  is  Friday  and  almost  sun- 
set? "  The  Calmuck  envoy  retired  cringing,  and  left  an 
odour  of  musk  and  candle-grease  behind  him. 

An  orange-man,  an  emissary  from  Lola  Montes;  a  dealer 
in  piping  bulfinches;  and  a  Cardinal  in  disguise,  with  a 
proposal  for  a  new  loan  for  the  Pope,  were  heard  by  turns, 
and  each,  after  a  rapid  colloquy  in  his  own  language,  was 
dismissed  by  Eafael. 

"The  Queen  must  come  back  from  Aranjuez,  or  that  king 
must  be  disposed  of,"  Eafael  exclaimed,  as  a  yellow-faced 
ambassador  from  Spain,  General  the  Duke  of  OUa  Podrida, 
left  him.  "  Which  shall  it  be,  my  Codlingsby?  "  Cod- 
lingsby  was  about  laughingly  to  answer,  for  indeed  he  was 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


31 


amazed  to  find  all  the  affairs  of  the  world  represented  here, 
and  Holywell  Street  the  centre  of  Europe,  when  three 
knocks  of  a  peculiar  nature  were  heard,  and  Mendoza, 
starting  up,  said,  "Ha!  there  are  only  four  men  in  the 
world  who  know  that  signal."  At  once,  and  with  a  rever- 
ence quite  distinct  from  his  former  nonchalant  manner,  he 
advanced  towards  the  new-comer. 

He  was  an  old  man — an  old  man  evidently  too,  of  the 
Hebrew  race — the  light  of  his  eyes  was  unfathomable — ■ 
about  his  mouth  there  played  an  inscrutable  smile.  He 
had  a  cotton  umbrella,  and  old  trowsers,  and  old  boots,  and 
an  old  wig,  curling  at  the  top  like  a  rotten  old  pear. 

He  sate  down  as  if  tired,  in  the  first  seat  at  hand,  as 
Eafael  made  him  the  lowliest  reverence. 

"I  am  tired,"  says  he;  '^I  have  come  in  fifteen  hours. 
I  am  ill  at  ISTeuilly,"  he  added  with  a  grin.  "  Get  me  some 
eau  Slier ee  and  tell  me  the  news.  Prince  de  Mendoza. 
These  bread  rows ;  this  unpopularity  of  Guizot ;  this  odious 
Spanish  conspiracy  against  my  darling  Montpensier  and 
daughter ;  this  ferocity  of  Palmerston  against  Coletti,  made 
me  quite  ill.  Give  me  your  opinion,  my  dear  duke.  But 
ha!  whom  have  we  here?  " 

The  august  individual  who  had  spoken,  had  used  the 
Hebrew  language  to  address  Mendoza,  and  the  Lord  Cod- 
lingsby  might  easily  have  pleaded  ignorance  of  that  tongue. 
But  he  had  been  at  Cambridge,  where  all  the  youth  acquire 
it  perfectly. 

said  he,  "I  will  not  disguise  from  you  that  I 
know  the  ancient  tongue  in  which  you  speak.  There  are 
probably  secrets  between  Mendoza  and  your  Maj  " 

"  Hush !  "  said  Eafael,  leading  him  from  the  room.  Aic 
revoir,  dear  Codlingsby,  His  Majesty  is  one  of  us,'-  he 
whispered  at  the  door ;  "  so  is  the  Pope  of  Eome ;  so  is 
.  .  ." — a  whisper  concealed  the  rest. 

"Gracious  powers!  is  it  so?  "  said  Codlingsby  musing. 
He  entered  into  Holywell  Street.    The  sun  was  sinking. 

"It  is  time,"  said  he,  "to  go  and  fetch  Armida  to  the 
Olympic." 


32  NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


LORDS  AND  LIVERIES. 

By  the  Authoress  op  Dukes  and  Dejeuners,'^ 
"Hearts  and  Diamonds/^  "Marchionesses  and 
Milliners/^  etc.  etc. 

"Corbleu!  What  a  lovely  creature  that  was  in  the 
ritzbattleaxe  box  to-night/'  said  one  of  a  group  of  young 
dandies,  who  were  leaning  over  the  velvet-cushioned  bal- 
conies of  the  Coventry  Club,  smoking  their  full-flavoured 
Cubas  (from  Hudson's)  after  the  opera. 

Everybody  stared  at  such  an  exclamation  of  enthusiasm 
from  the  lips  of  the  young  Earl  of  Bagnigge,  who  was 
never  heard  to  admire  anything  except  a  coulis  de  dindon- 
neau  a  la  St.  Menehoidd,  or  a  supreme  de  cochon  en  torticolis 
a  la  Fiffarde  ;  such  as  ChampoUioUj  the  chef  of  the  Trav- 
ellers, only  knows  how  to  dress,  or  the  bouquet  of  a  flask 
of  Medoc,  of  Carbonell's  best  quality;  or  a  goutte  of  Ma- 
rasquin,  from  the  cellars  of  Briggs  and  Hobson. 

Alured  de  Pentonville,  eighteenth  Earl  of  Bagnigge,  Vis- 
count Paon  of  Islington,  Baron  Pancras,  Kingscross,  and  a 
Baronet,  was,  like  too  many  of  our  young  men  of  ton^ 
utterly  blase,  although  only  in  his  twenty-fourth  year. 
Blest,  luckily,  with  a  mother  of  excellent  principles,  (who 
had  imbued  his  young  mind  with  that  Morality  which  is 
so  superior  to  all  the  vain  pomps  of  the  world !)  it  had  not 
been  always  the  young  Earl's  lot  to  wear  the  coronet  for 
which  he  now  in  sooth  cared  so  little.  His  father,  a  Cap- 
tain of  Britain's  navy,  struck  down  by  the  side  of  the  gal- 
lant Ceilings  wood  in  the  Bay  of  Eundy,  left  little  but  his 
sword  and  spotless  name  to  his  young,  lovel}^,  and  incon- 
solable widow,  who  passed  the  first  years  of  her  mourning 
in  educating  her  child  in  an  elegant  though  small  cottage 
in  one  of  the  romantic  marine  villages  of  beautiful  Devon- 
shire.   Her  child!    What  a  gush  of  consolation  filled  the 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS.  33 


widow's  heart  as  she  pressed  him  to  it!  how  faithfully  did 
she  instil  into  his  young  bosom  those  principles  which  had 
been  the  pole-star  of  the  existence  of  his  gallant  father. 

In  this  secluded  retreat,  rank  and  wealth  almost  bound- 
less found  the  widow  and  her  boy.  The  seventeenth  Earl 
— gallant  and  ardent,  and  in  the  prime  of  youth, — went 
forth  one  day  from  the  Eternal  City  to  a  steeple-chase  in 
the  Campagna.  A  mutilated  corpse  was  brought  back  to 
his  hotel  in  the  Piazza  de  Spagna.  Death,  alas!  is  no 
respecter  of  the  Nobility  That  shattered  form  was  all 
that  remained  of  the  fiery,  the  haughty — the  wild,  but  the 
generous  Altamont  de  Pentonville !    Such,  such  is  fate ! 

The  admirable  Emily  de  Pentonville  trembled  with  all  a 
mother's  solicitude  at  the  distinctions  and  honours  which 
thus  suddenly  descended  on  her  boy.  She  engaged  an  ex- 
cellent clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England  to  superintend 
his  studies ;  to  accompany  him  on  foreign  travel  when  the 
proper  season  arrived;  to  ward  from  him  those  dangers 
which  dissipation  always  throws  in  the  way  of  the  iK)ble, 
the  idle,  and  the  wealthy.  But  the  Eeverend  Cyril  Delaval 
died  of  the  measles  at  Naples ;  and  henceforth  the  young 
Earl  of  Bagnigge  was  without  a  guardian. 

What  was  the  consequence?  That,  at  three-and- twenty 
he  was  a  cynic  and  an  epicure.  He  had  drained  the  cup 
of  pleasure  until  it  had  palled  in  his  unnerved  hand.  He 
had  looked  at  the  Pyramids  without  awe,  at  the  Alps  with- 
out reverence.  He  was  as  unmoved  by  the  sandy  solitudes 
of  the  desert  as  by  the  placid  depths  of  Mediterraneans  sea 
of  blue.  Bitter,  bitter  tears  did  Emily  de  Pentonville 
weep,  when,  on  Alured's  return  from  the  Continent,  she 
beheld  the  awful  change  that  dissipation  had  wrought  in 
her  beautiful,  her  blue-eyed,  her  perverted,  her  still-beloved 
boy! 

"Corpo  di  bacco,"  he  said,  pitching  the  end  of  his  cigar 
on  to  the  red  nose  of  the  Countess  of  Delawaddymore's 
coachman,  who,  having  deposited  her  fat  ladyship  at  No. 
236,  Piccadilly,  was  driving  the  carriage  to  the  stables,  be- 
fore commencing  his  evening  at  the  Fortune  of  War  Public- 


84  NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


house.  "What  a  lovely  creature  that  was!  What  eyes! 
what  hair !    Who  knows  her?    Do  you,  mon  cher  Prince  ? 

E  hellissima,  certamente,^^  said  the  Duca  di  Montepul- 
ciano,  and  stroked  down  his  jetty  moustache. 

"  Ein  gar  schdnes  Madcheuy^^  said  the  Hereditary  Grand 
Duke  of  Eulenschreckenstein,  and  turned  up  his  carroty 
one. 

Elle  n^est  pas  maly  ma  foi  !  "  said  the  Prince  de  Boro- 
dino, with  a  scowl  on  his  darkling  brows.  Mon  Dieu^ 
que  ces  cigarres  sont  mauvais !  he  added,  as  he  too  cast 
away  his  Cuba. 

"Try  one  of  my  Pickwicks,"  said  Franklin  Fox,  with  a 
sneer,  offering  his  gold  etui  to  the  young  Frenchman,  "they 
are  some  of  Pontet's  best.  Prince.  What,  do  you  bear 
malice?  Come,  let  us  be  friends,"  said  the  gay  and  care- 
less young  patrician ;  but  a  scowl  on  the  part  of  the  French- 
man was  the  only  reply. 

"  Want  to  know  who  she  is?  Borodino  knows  who  she 
is,  Bagnigge,"  the  wag  went  on. 

Everybody  crowded  round  Monsieur  de  Borodino  thus 
apostrophised.  The  Marquis  of  Alicompayne,  young  De 
Boots  of  the  Life  Guards,  Tom  Protocol  of  the  Foreign 
Office;  the  gay  young  peers  Farintosh,  Poldoody,  and  the 
rest ;  and  Bagnigge,  for  a  wonder,  not  less  eager  than  any 
one  present. 

"No,  he  will  tell  you  nothing  about  her.    DonH  you  see 
he  has  gone  off  in  a  fury !  "  Franklin  Fox  continued.    "  He 
has  his  reasons,  ce  cher  Frince  ;  he  will  tell  you  nothing,, 
but  I  will.    You  know  that  I  am  an  mieux  with  the  dear 
old  Duchess." 

"  They  say  Frank  and  she  are  engaged  after  the  Duke's 
death,"  cried  Poldoody. 

"I  always  thought  Fwank  was  the  Duke's  illicit  gweat- 
gwandson,"  drawled  out  De  Boots. 

"  I  heard  that  he  doctored  her  Blenheim,  and  used  to 
bring  her  wigs  from  Paris,"  cried  that  malicious  Tom  Pro- 
tocol, whose  mots  are  known  in  every  diplomatic  salo7i  from 
Petersburgh  to  Palermo. 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


35 


"Burn  her  wigs,  and  haxig  her  poodle/^  said  Bagnigge. 
"Tell  us  about  this  girl,  Franklin  Fox.^^ 

"In  the  first  place,  she  has  five  hundred  thousand  acres, 
in  a  ring  fence,  in  Norfolk;  a  County  in  Scotland;  a  Castle 
in  Wales,  a  Villa  at  Eichmond,  a  corner-house  in  Belgrave 
Square,  and  eighty  thousand  a-year  in  the  Three  per  Cents." 
Apres,^^  said  Bagnigge  still  yawning. 

"Secondly,  Borodino  lid  fait  la  coitr.  They  are  cousins, 
her  mother  was  an  Armagnac  of  the  emigration ;  the  old 
Marshal,  his  father,  married  another  sister.  I  believe  he 
was  footman  in  the  family,  before  Napoleon  princified 
him." 

"No,  no,  he  was  second  coachman," — Tom  Protocol 
good-naturedly  interposed — "  cavalry  officer,  Frank,  not  an 
infantry  man." 

"Faith,  you  should  have  seen  his  fury  (the  young  one's, 
I  mean)  when  he  found  me  in  the  Duchess's  room  this 
evening,  tete-a-tete  with  the  heiress,  who  deigned  to  accept 
a  hoiiqitet  from  this  hand. " 

"It  cost  me  three  guineas,"  poor  Frank  said,  with  a 
shrug  and  a  sigh,  "  and  that  Covent  Garden  scoundrel  gives 
no  credit;  but  she  took  the  flowers; — eh,  Bagnigge?" 

"And  flung  them  to  Alboni,"  the  Peer  replied,  with  a 
haughty  sneer.  And  poor  little  Franklin  Fox  was  com- 
pelled to  own  that  she  had. 

The  7naitre-cV  hotel  announced  that  supper  was  served. 
It  was  remarked  that  even  the  coulis  de  dindonneau  made 
no  impression  on  Bagnigge  that  night. 

The  sensation  produced  by  the  dehitt  of  Amethyst  Pim- 
lico  at  the  Court  of  the  Sovereign,  and  in  the  salons  of  the 
heau-monde^  was  such  as  has  seldom  been  created  by  the 
appearance  of  any  other  beauty.  The  men  were  raving 
with  love,  and  the  women  with  jealousy.  Her  eyes,  her 
beauty,  her  wit,  her  grace,  her  ton^  caused  a  perfect /^^m^r 
of  admiration  or  envy. 

Introduced  by  the  Duchess  of  Fitzbattleaxe,  along  with 
her  Grace's  daughters,  the  Ladies  Gwendoline  and  Gwin- 


36 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


ever  Portcullis,  the  heiress's  regal  beauty  quite  flung  her 
cousins'  simple  charms  into  the  shade,  and  blazed  with  a 
splendour  which  caused  all  "  minor  lights "  to  twinkle 
faintly.  Before  a  day  the  heau-monde,  before  a  week  even 
the  vulgarians  of  the  rest  of  the  town,  rang  with  the  fame 
of  her  beauty ;  and  while  the  dandies  and  the  beauties  were 
raving  about  her  or  tearing  her  to  pieces  in  May  Fair,  even 
Mrs.  Dobbs  (who  had  been  to  the  pit  of  the  "Hoperer''  in 
a  green  turban  and  a  crumpled  yellow  satin)  talked  about 
the  great  hairess  to  her  D.  in  Bloomsbury  Square. 

Crowds  went  to  Squab  and  Lynch' s,  in  Long  Acre,  to 
examine  the  carriages  building  for  her,  so  faultless,  so 
splendid,  so  quiet,  so  odiously  unostentatious  and  provok- 
ingly  simple !  Besides  the  ancestral  services  of  argenterie 
and  vaisselle  plate,  contained  in  a  hundred  and  seventy-six 
plate  chests  at  Messrs.  Childs,  Eumble  and  Briggs  pre- 
pared a  gold  service,  and  Garraway,  of  the  Haymarket,  a 
service  of  the  Benvenuto  Cellini  pattern,  which  were  the 
admiration  of  all  London.  Before  a  month  it  is  a  fact  that 
the  wretched  haberdashers  in  the  city  exhibited  blue  stocks, 
called  "  Heiress-killers,  very  chaste,  two-and-six ; "  long 
before  that,  the  monde  had  rushed  to  Madame  Crinoline's, 
or  sent  couriers  to  Madame  Marabou,  at  Paris,  so  as  to 
have  copies  of  her  dresses ;  but,  as  the  Mantuan  bard  ob- 
serves, "Non  cuivis  contigit," — every  foot  cannot  accommo- 
date itself  to  the  chaussure  of  Cinderella. 

With  all  this  splendour,  this  worship,  this  beaut}^ ;  with 
these  cheers  following  her,  and  these  crowds  at  her  feet, 
was  Amethyst  happy?  Ah,  no !  It  is  not  under  the  neck- 
lace the  most  brilliant  that  Briggs  and  Eumble  can  supply ; 
it  is  not  in  Lynch' s  best  cushioned  chariot  that  the  heart  is 
most  at  ease.  "  Queje  me  ruineraiy^^  says  Fronsac  in  a  let- 
ter to  Bossuet,  "  si  je  savais  ou  acheter  le  honheur. " 

With  all  her  riches,  with  all  her  splendour.  Amethyst 
was  wretched — wretched,  because  lonely ;  wretched,  because 
her  loving  heart  had  nothing  to  cling  to.  Her  splendid 
mansion  was  a  convent ;  no  male  person  ever  entered  it, 
except  Franklin  Fox,  (who  counted  for  nothing),  and  the 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


37 


Duchess's  family,  her  kinsman  old  Lord  Humpington,  his 
friend  old  Sir  John  Fogey,  and  her  cousin,  the  odious, 
odious  Borodino. 

The  Prince  de  Borodino  declared  openly  that  Amethyst 
was  engaged  to  him.    Crible  de  dettesy  it  is  no  wonder  that 
he  should  choose  such  an  opportunity  to  refaire  sa  fortune. 
He  gave  out  that  he  would  kill  any  man  who  should  cast 

.  an  eye  on  the  heiress,  and  the  monster  kept  his  word. 
Major  Grigg,  of  the  Life  Guards,  had  already  fallen  by  his 
hand  at  Ostend.  The  0' Toole,  who  had  met  her  on  the 
Khine,  had  received  a  ball  in  his  shoulder  at  Coblentz,  and 
did  not  care  to  resume  so  dangerous  a  courtship.  Borodino 
could  snuff  a  bougie  at  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards.  He 
could  beat  Bertrand  or  Alexander  Damas  himself  with  the 

'  small  sword ;  he  was  the  dragon  that  watched  this  pomme 
d^or,  and  very  few  persons  were  now  inclined  to  face  a 
champion  si  redoutahle. 

Over  a  Salmi  d^escargot  at  the  Coventry,  the  dandies 
whom  we  introduced  in  our  last  volume  were  assembled 
there  talking  of  the  heiress,  and  her  story  was  told  by 
Franklin  Fox  to  Lord  Bagnigge,  who  for  a  wonder  was  in- 
terested in  the  tale.  Borodino's  pretensions  were  discussed, 
and  the  way  in  which  the  fair  Amethyst  was  confined. 
Fitzbattleaxe  House  in  Belgrave  Square  is — as  everybody 
knows — the  next  mansion  to  that  occupied  by  Amethyst. 
A  communication  was  made  between  the  two  houses.  She 
never  went  out  except  accompanied  by  the  Duchess's  guard, 

.    which  it  was  impossible  to  overcome^ 

Impossible !    Nothing's  impossible,"  said  Lord  Bag- 

-  nigge. 

"I  bet  you  what  you  like  you  don't  get  in,"  said  the 
young  Marquis  of  Martingale. 

^^I  bet  you  a  thousand  ponies  I  stop  a  week  in  the 
heiress's  house  before  the  season's  over,"  Lord  Bagnigge 
replied  with  a  yawn;  and  the  bet  was  registered  with 
shouts  of  applause. 

But  it  seemed  as  if  the  Fates  had  determined  against 
Lord  Bagnigge,  for  the  very  next  day,  riding  in  the  Park, 


38 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


his  horse  fell  with  him ;  he  was  carried  home  to  his  house 
with  a  fractured  limb  and  a  dislocated  shoulder,  and  the 
doctor's  bulletins  pronounced  him  to  be  in  the  most  dan- 
gerous state. 

Martingale  was  a  married  man,  and  there  was  no  danger 
of  his  riding  by  the  Fitzbattleaxe  carriage.  A  fortnight 
after  the  above  events,  his  Lordship  was  prancing  by  her 
Grace's  great  family  coach,  and  chattering  with  Lady 
Gwinever  about  the  strange  wager. 

"  Do  you  know  what  a  pony  is,  Xiady  Gwinever? ''  he 
asked.  Her  Ladyship  said  yes ;  she  had  a  cream-coloured 
one  at  Castle  Barbican ;  and  stared  when  Jjord  Martingale 
announced  that  he  should  soon  have  a  thousand  ponies; 
worth  five-and-twenty  pounds  each,  which  were  all  now 
kept  at  Coutts's.  Then  he  explained  the  circumstances  of 
the  bet  with  Bagnigge.  Parliament  was  to  adjourn  in  ten 
days ;  the  season  would  be  over ;  Bagnigge  was  lying  ill 
chez  lui  ;  and  the  five-and-twenty  thousand  were  irrevoca- 
bly his.  And  he  vowed  he  would  buy  Lord  Binnacle's 
yacht — crew,  captain,  guns,  and  all. 

On  returning  home  that  night  from  Lady  Polkimore's, 
Martingale  found  among  the  many  billets  upon  the  gold 
plateau  in  his  ante-chamhrey  the  following  brief  one,  which 
made  him  start : — 

"Dear  Martingale, — Don't  be  too  sure  of  Binnacle's 
yacht.  There  are  still  ten  days  before  the  season  is  over; 
and  my  ponies  may  lie  at  Coutts's  for  some  time  to  come. 
— Yours,  Bagnigge. 

"  P.  S,  I  write  with  my  left  hand ;  for  my  right  is  still 
splintered  up  from  that  confounded  fall." 


The  tall  footman,  number  four,  who  had  come  in  the 
place  of  John,  cashiered  (for  want  of  proper  mollets,  and 
because  his  hair  did  not  take  powder  well)  had  given  great 
satisfaction  to  the  under-butler,  who  reported  well  of  him 
to  his  chief,  who  had  mentioned  his  name  with  praise  to 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


39 


the  house-steward.  He  was  so  good-looking  and  well- 
spoken  a  young  man,  that  the  ladies  in  the  housekeeper's 
room  deigned  to  notice  him  more  than  once ;  nor  was  his 
popularity  diminished  on  account  of  a  quarrel  in  which  he 
engaged  with  Monsieur  Anatole,  the  enormous  Walloon 
chasseur,  who  was  one  day  found  embracing  Miss  Flouncy, 
who  waited  on  Amethyst's  own  maid.  The  very  instant 
Miss  Flouncy  saw  Mr.  Jeames  entering  the  Servants'  Hall, 
where  Monsieur  Anatole  was  engaged  in  ^^aggravating" 
her,  Miss  Flouncy  screamed — at  the  next  moment  the  Bel- 
gian giant  lay  sprawling  upon  the  carpet — and  Jeames, 
standing  over  him,  assumed  so  terrible  a  look,  that  the 
chasseur  declined  any  further  combat.  The  victory  was 
made  known  to  the  house-steward  himself,  who,  being  a 
little  partial  to  Miss  Flouncy  herself,  complimented  Jeames 
on  his  valour,  and  poured  out  a  glass  of  Madeira  in  his  own 
room. 

Who  was  Jeames?  He  had  come  recommended  by  the 
Bagnigge  people.  He  had  lived,  he  said,  in  that  family 
two  years.  ^^But  where  there  was  no  ladies,"  he  said,  "a 
gentleman's  hand  was  spiled  for  service,"  and  Jeames' s 
was  a  very  delicate  hand ;  Miss  Flouncy  admired  it  very 
much,  and  of  course  he  did  not  defile  it  by  menial  service ; 
he  had  in  a  young  man  who  called  him  "  Sir,"  and  did  all 
the  coarse  work  5  and  Jeames  read  the  morning  paper  to 
the  ladies;  not  spellingly  and  with  hesitation,  as  many 
gentlemen  do,  but  easily  and  elegantly,  speaking  off  the 
longest  words  without  a  moment's  difficulty.  He  could 
speak  French,  too.  Miss  Flouncy  found,  who  was  studying 
it  under  Mademoiselle  GreLnde,  Jllle-de-chambre  de  confiance  ; 
for  when  she  said  to  him,  "Polly  voo  Fransy,  Munseer 
Jeames?  "  he  replied  readily,  "  We^  Mademaselle,  f  aipassay 
loco  de  toncj  a  Tarry.  Commong  voo  potty  voo  ?  "  How 
Miss  Flouncy  admired  him  as  he  stood  before  her,  the  day 
after  he  had  saved  Miss  Amethyst,  when  the  horses  had 
run  away  with  her  in  tlie  Park! 

Poor  Flouncy,  poor  Flouncy!  Jeames  had  been  but  a 
week  in  Amethyst's  service,  and  already  the  gentle  heart 


40 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


of  the  washing-girl  was  irrecoverably  gone !  Poor  Flouncy ! 
poor  Flouncy!  he  thought  not  of  thee. 

It  happened  thus.  Miss  Amethyst  being  engaged  to 
drive  with  her  cousin  the  Prince  in  his  phaeton,  her  own 
carriage  was  sent  into  the  Park  simply  with  her  compan- 
ion, who  had  charge  of  her  little  Fido,  the  dearest  little 
spaniel  in  the  world.  Jeames  and  Frederick  were  behind 
the  carriage  with  their  long  sticks  and  neat  dark  liveries ; 
the  horses  were  worth  a  thousand  guineas  each,  the  coach- 
man a  late  Lieutenant  Colonel  of  cavalry ;  the  whole  ring 
did  not  boast  a  more  elegant  turn-out. 

The  Prince  drove  his  curricle,  and  had  charge  of  his  belle 
coiisine.  It  may  have  been  the  red  fezzes  in  the  carriage 
of  the  Turkish  ambassador  which  frightened  the  Prince's 
greys,  or  Mrs.  Champignon's  new  yellow  liveries,  which 
were  flaunting  in  the  Park,  or  hideous  Lady  Gorgon's  pre- 
ternatural ugliness,  who  passed  in  a  low  pony-carriage  at 
the  time,  or  the  Prince's  own  want  of  skill,  finally;  but 
certain  it  is  that  the  horses  took  fright,  dashed  wildly 
along  the  mile,  scattered  equipages^  pietonsy  dandies'  cabs, 
and  Snobs'  pheaytons.  Amethyst  was  screaming;  and  the 
Prince,  deadly  pale,  had  lost  all  presence  of  mind;  as  the 
curricle  came  rushing  by  the  spot  where  Miss  Amethyst's 
carriage  stood. 

^^I'm  blest,"  Frederick  exclaimed  to  his  companion,  "if 
it  ain't  the  Prince  a-drivin'  our  Missis!  They'll  be  in  the 
Serpingtine,  or  dashed  to  pieces,  if  they  don't  mind ; "  and 
the  runaway  steeds  at  this  instant  came  upon  them  as  a 
whirlwind. 

But  if  those  steeds  ran  at  wliirlwind  pace,  Jeames  was 
swifter.  To  jump  from  behind,  to  bound  after  the  rock- 
ing, reeling  curricle,  to  jump  into  it,  aided  by  the  long 
stick  which  he  carried  and  used  as  a  leaping-pole,  and  to 
seize  the  reins  out  of  the  hands  of  the  miserable  Borodino, 
who  shrieked  piteously,  as  the  dauntless  valet  leapt  on  his 
toes  and  into  his  seat,  was  the  work  of  an  instant.  In  a 
few  minutes  the  mad,  swaying  rush  of  the  horses  was  re- 
duced to  a  swift  but  steady  gallop;  presently  a  canter,  then 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


41 


a  trot;  until  finally  they  pulled  up  smoking  and  trembling, 
but  quite  quiet,  by  the  side  of  Amethyst's  carriage,  which 
came  up  at  a  rapid  pace. 

"Give  me  the  reins,  malappris  !  tu  iii^ecrasses  les  cors, 
manant  I  yelled  the  frantic  nobleman,  writhing  under- 
neath the  intrepid  charioteer. 

"  Tant  pis  pour  tot,  nigaud^^^  was  the  reply.  The  lovely 
Amethyst  of  course  had  fainted ;  but  she  recovered  as  she 
was  placed  in  her  carriage,  and  rewarded  her  preserver 
with  a  celestial  smile. 

The  rage,  the  fury,  the  maledictions  of  Borodino,  as  he 
saw  the  latter — a  liveried  menial — stoop  gracefully  forward 
and  kiss  Amethyst's  hand,  may  be  imagined  rather  than 
described.  But  Jeames  heeded  not  his  curses.  Having 
placed  his  adored  mistress  in  the  carriage,  he  calmly 
resumed  his  station  behind.  Passion  or  danger  seemed  to 
have  no  impression  upon  that  pale  marble  face. 

Borodino  went  home  furious ;  nor  was  his  rage  dimin- 
ished, when,  on  coming  to  dinner  that  day,  a  r^cAerc/ze  ban- 
quet served  in  the  Framjipane  best  style,  and  requesting  a 
supply  of  a  puree  a  la  bisque  aux  ecrevisses,  the  clumsy 
attendant  who  served  him  let  fall  the  assiette  of  vermeille 
cisele,  with  its  scalding  contents,  over  the  Prince's  chin, 
his  Mechlin  jabot,  and  the  grand  cordon  of  the  Legion  of 
Honour  which  he  wore. 

Infdme,^'  howled  Borodino,    tit  V as  fait  ex2)res  f 

"  Ouiyje  Vai  fait  expjves,^^  said  the  man,  with  the  most 
perfect  Parisian  accent.    It  was  Jeames. 

Such  insolence  of  course  could  not  be  passed  unnoticed 
even  after  the  morning's  service,  and  he  was  chassed  on  the 
spot.    He  had  been  but  a  week  in  the  house. 

The  next  month  the  newspapers  contained  a  paragraph 
which  may  possibly  elucidate  the  above  mystery,  and  to 
the  following  effect : — 

"  Singular  Wager, — One  night,  at  the  end  of  last  season 
the  young  and  eccentric  Earl  of  B — gn — gge  laid  a  wager 
of  twenty-five  thousand  pounds  with  a  broken  sporting 


42  NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


patrician,  the  dashing  Marquis  of  M — rt — ng — le,  that  he 
would  pass  a  week  under  the  roof  of  a  celebrated  and  lovely 
young  heiress,  who  lives  not  a  hundred  miles  from  B — 1- 
gr — ve  Squ — re.  The  bet  having  been  made,  the  Earl  pre- 
tended an  illness,  and  havmg  taken  lessons  from  one  of  his 
lordship's  own  footmen  (Mr.  James  Plush,  whose  name  he 
also  borrowed)  in  *  the  mysteries  of  the  profession '  actually 
succeeded  in  making  an  entry  into  Miss  P — ml — co's  man- 
sion, where  he  stopped  one  week  exactly ;  having  time  to 
win  his  bet,  and  to  save  the  life  of  the  lady,  whom  we  hear 
he  is  about  to  lead  to  the  altar.  He  disarmed  the  Prince 
of  Borodino  in  a  duel  fought  on  Calais  sands — and,  it  is 

said,  appeared  at  the  C  club  wearing  his  plush  costume 

under  a  cloa,k,  and  displaying  it  as  a  proof  that  he  had  won 
his  wager.'' 

Such  indeed,  were  the  circumstances.  The  young  couple 
have  not  more  than  nine  hundred  thousand  a  year,  but  they 
live  cheerfully,  and  manage  to  do  good;  and  Emily  de 
Pentonville,  who  adores  her  daughter-in-law,  and  her  little 
grand-children,  is  blest  in  seeing  her  darling  son  enfin  un 
homme  range. 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


43 


BARBAZURE 

By  G.  p.  E.  Jeames,  Esq.,  etc. 

It  was  upon  one  of  those  balmy  evenings  of  November 
which  are  only  known  in  the  valleys  of  Languedoc  and 
among  the  mountains  of  Alsace,  that  two  cavaliers  might 
have  been  perceived  by  the  naked  eye  threading  one  of  the 
rocky  and  romantic  gorges  that  skirt  the  mountain-land  be- 
tween the  Marne  and  the  Garonne,  The  rosy  tints  of  the 
declining  luminary  were  gilding  the  peaks  and  crags  which 
lined  the  path,  through  which  the  horsemen  wound  slowly ; 
and  as  those  eternal  battlements  with  which  Nature  had 
hemmed  in  the  ravine  which  our  travellers  trod,  blushed 
with  the  last  tints  of  the  fading  sunlight,  the  valley  below 
was  grey  and  darkling,  and  the  hard  and  devious  course 
was  sombre  in  twilight.  A  few  goats,  hardly  visible  among 
the  peaks,  were  cropping  the  scanty  herbage  here  and  there. 
The  pipes  of  shepherds,  calling  in  their  flocks  as  they 
trooped  homcAvards  to  their  mountain  villages,  sent  up 
plaintive  echoes  which  moaned  through  those  rocky  and 
lonely  steeps;  the  stars  began  to  glimmer  in  the  purple 
heavens,  spread  serenely  overhead ;  and  the  faint  crescent  of 
the  moon,  which  had  peered  for  some  time  scarce  visible  in 
the  azure,  gleamed  out  more  brilliantly  at  every  moment, 
until  it  blazed  as  if  in  triumph  at  the  sun's  retreat.  'Tis  a 
fair  land  that  of  France,  a  gentle,  a  green,  and  a  beautiful; 
the  home  of  arts  and  arms,  of  chivalry  and  romance,  and 
(however  sadly  stained  by  the  excesses  of  modern  times) 
^twas  the  unbought  grace  of  nations  once,  and  the  seat  of 
ancient  renown  and  disciplined  valour. 

And  of  all  that  fair  land  of  France,  whose  beauty  is  so 
bright,  and  bravery  so  famous,  there  is  no  spot  greener  or 
fairer  than  that  one  over  which  our  travellers  wended,  and 
which  stretches  between  the  good  towns  of  Vendemiaire  and 
Nivose.    ^Tis  common  now  to  a  hundred  thousand  voy- 


44 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


agers :  the  English  tourist,  with  his  chariot  and  his  Har- 
vey's Sauce,  and  his  imperials;  the  bustling  commis-voy- 
ageur  on  the  roof  of  the  rumbling  diligence;  the  rapid 
malle-poste  thundering  over  the  chaussee  at  twelve  miles 
an  hour — pass  the  ground  hourly  and  daily  now ;  Hwas  lone- 
ly and  unfrequented  at  the  end  of  that  seventeenth  century 
with  which  our  story  commences. 

Along  the  darkening  mountain  paths  the  two  gentlemen 
(for  such  their  outward  bearing  proclaimed  them)  caracoUed 
together.  The  one,  seemingly  the  younger  of  the  twain, 
wore  a  flaunting  feather  in  his  barrat-cap,  and  managed  a 
prancing  Andalusian  palfrey  that  bounded  and  curvetted 
gaily.  A  surcoat  of  peach-coloured  samite  and  a  purfled 
doublet  of  vair  bespoke  him  noble,  as  did  his  brilliant  eye, 
his  exquisitely  chiselled  nose,  and  his  curling  chestnut  ring- 
lets. 

Youth  was  on  his  brow ;  his  eyes  were  dark  and  dewy, 
like  spring  violets ;  and  spring-roses  bloomed  upon  his  cheek 
— roses,  alas!  that  bloom  and  die  with  life's  spring!  Now 
bounding  over  a  rock,  now  playfully  whisking  off  with  his 
riding-rod  a  flowret  in  his  path,  Philibert  de  Coquelicot 
rode  by  his  darker  companion. 

His  comrade  was  mounted  upon  a  destrier e  of  the  true 
Norman  breed,  that  had  first  champed  grass  on  the  green 
pastures  of  Acquitaine.  Thence  through  Berry,  Picardy,  ' 
and  the  Limousin,  halting  at  many  a  city  and  commune, 
holding  joust  and  tourney  in  many  a  castle  and  manor  of 
Navarre,  Poitou,  and  St.  Germain  PAuxerrois,  the  warrior 
and  his  charger  reached  the  lonely  spot  where  now  we  find 
them. 

The  warrior  who  bestrode  the  noble  beast  was  in  sooth 
worthy  of  the  steed  which  bore  him.  Both  were  capari- 
soned in  the  fullest  trappings  of  feudal  war.  The  arblast, 
the  mangonel,  the  demiculverin,  and  the  cuissart  of  the 
period,  glittered  upon  the  neck  and  chest  of  the  war-steed; 
while  the  rider,  with  chamfron  and  catapult,  with  ban  and 
arriere-ban,  morion  and  tumbril,  battle-axe  and  rifflard,  and 
the  other  appurtenances  of  ancient  chivalry,  rode  stately 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


45 


on  his  steel-clad  charger,  himself  a  tower  of  steei.  This 
mighty  horseman  was  carried  by  his  steed  as  lightly  as  the 
young  springald  by  his  Andalusian  hackney. 

^^^Twas  well  done  of  thee,  Philibert,''  said  he  of  the 
proof-armour,  "  to  ride  forth  so  far  to  welcome  thy  cousin 
and  companion  in  arms." 

"Companion  in  battledore  and  shuttlecock,  Eomane  de 
Clos-Vougeot ! replied  the  young  Cavalier.  "  When  I  was 
yet  a  page,  thou  wert  a  belted  knight ;  and  thou  wert  away 
to  the  Crusade  ere  ever  my  beard  grew." 

"  I  stood  by  Eichard  of  England  at  the  gates  of  Ascalon, 
and  drew  the  spear  from  sainted  Kmg  Louis  in  the  tents  of 
Damietta,"  the  individual  addressed  as  Eomane  replied. 
"Well-a-day!  since  thy  beard  grew,  boy  (and  marry  ^tis 
yet  a  thin  one),  I  have  broken  a  lance  with  Solyman  at 
Ehodes,  and  smoked  a  chibouque  with  Saladin  at  Acre. 
But  enough  of  this.  Tell  me  of  home — of  our  native  val- 
ley— of  my  hearth,  and  my  lady  mother,  and  my  good 
chaplain — tell  me  of  her,  Philibert,"  said  the  knight,  ex- 
ecuting a  demivolte,  in  order  to  hide  his  emotion. 

Philibert  seemed  uneasy,  and  to  strive  as  though  he 
would  parry  the  question.  "The  Castle  stands  on  the 
rock,^'  he  said,  "and  the  swallows  still  build  in  the  battle- 
ments. The  good  chaplain  still  chants  his  vespers  at  morn, 
and  snuffles  his  matins  at  even-song.  The  lady-mother 
still  distributeth  tracts,  and  knitteth  Berlin  linsey-woolsey. 
The  tenants  pay  no  better,  and  the  lawyers  dun  as  sorely, 
kinsman  mine,"  he  added  with  an  arch  look. 

"But  Fatima,  Fafcima,  how  fares  she?"  Eomane  con- 
tinued. "  Since  Lammas  was  a  twelvemonth,  I  hear  nought 
of  her;  my  letters  are  unanswered.  The  postman  hath 
traversed  our  camp  every  day,  and  never  brought  me  a 
billet.    How  is  Fatima,  Philibert  de  Coquelicot?  " 

"She  is — well,"  Philibert  replied;  "her  sister  Anne  is 
the  fairest  of  the  twain,  though." 

"  Her  sister  Anne  was  a  baby  when  I  embarked  for  Egypt. 
A  plague  on  sister  Anne !  Speak  of  Fatima,  Philibert — my 
blue-eyed  Fatima ! " 


46  NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


"I  say  she  is — well,"  answered  his  comrade,  gloomily. 

"Is  she  dead?  Is  she  ill?  Hath  she  the  measles? 
Nay,  hath  she  had  small-pox,  and  lost  her  beauty?  Speak! 
speak,  boy !    cried  the  knight,  wrought  to  agony. 

"Her  cheek  is  as  red  as  her  mother's,  though  the  old 
Countess  paints  hers  every  day.  Her  foot  is  as  light  as  a 
sparrow's,  and  her  voice  as  sweet  as  a  minstrel's  dulcimer; 
but  give  me  nathless  the  Lady  Anne,"  cried  Philibert, 
"  give  me  the  peerless  Lady  Anne !  As  soon  as  ever  I  have 
won  spurs,  I  will  ride  all  Christendom  through,  and  pro- 
claim her  the  Queen  of  Beauty.  Ho,  Lady  Anne!  Lady 
Anne !  "  and  so  saying — but  evidently  wishing  to  disguise 
some  emotion,  or  conceal  some  tale  his  friend  could  ill 
brook  to  hear — the  reckless  damoiseau  galloped  wildly  for- 
ward. 

But  swift  as  was  his  courser's  pace,  that  of  his  com- 
panion's enormous  charger  was  swifter.  "Boy,"  said  the 
elder,  "thou  hast  ill  tidings.  I  knew  it  by  thy  glance. 
Speak :  shall  he  who  hath  bearded  grim  Death  in  a  thou- 
sand fields  shame  to  face  truth  from  a  friend?  Speak,  in 
the  name  of  Heaven  and  good  Saint  Botibol,  Eomane  de 
Clos-Vougeot  will  bear  your  tidings  like  a  man." 

"Fatima  is  well,"  answered  Philibert  once  again;  "she 
hath  had  no  measles :  she  lives  and  is  still  fair." 

"Fair,  aye,  peerless  fair;  bat  what  more,  Philibert? 
Not  false?  By  Saint  Botibol,  say  not  false,"  groaned  the 
elder  warrior. 

"A  month  syne,"  Philibert  replied,  "she  married  the 
Baron  de  Barbazure." 

With  that  scream  which  is  so  terrible  in  a  strong  man  in 
agony,  the  brave  knight  Eomane  de  Clos-Vougeot  sank 
back  at  these  words,  and  fell  from  his  charger  to  the 
ground,  a  lifeless  mass  of  steel. 


Like  many  another  fabric  of  feudal  war  and  splendour, 
the  once  vast  and  magnificent  Castle  of  Barbazure  is  now  a 
moss-grown  ruin.    The  traveller  of  the  present  day,  who 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


47 


wanders  by  the  banks  of  the  silvery  Loire,  and  climbs  the 
steep  on  which  the  magnificent  edifice  stood,  can  scarcely 
trace,  among  the  shattered  masses  of  ivy-coloured  masonry 
which  lie  among  the  lonely  crags,  even  the  skeleton  of  the 
proud  and  majestic  palace  stronghold  of  the  Barons  of  Bar- 
bazure. 

In  the  days  of  our  tale  its  turrets  and  pinnacles  rose  as 
stately,  and  seemed  (to  the  pride  of  sinful  man !)  as  strong 
as  the  eternal  rocks  on  which  they  stood.  The  three  mul- 
lets on  a  gules  wavy  reversed,  surmounted  by  the  sinople 
couchant  Or,  the  well-known  cognizance  of  the  house, 
blazed  in  gorgeous  heraldry  on  a  hundred  banners,  sur- 
mounting as  many  towers.  The  long  lines  of  battlemented 
walls  spread  down  the  mountain  to  the  Loire,  and  were 
defended  by  thousands  of  steel-clad  serving-men.  Four 
hundred  knights  and  six  times  as  many  archers  fought 
round  the  banner  of  Barbazure  at  Bouvines,  Malplaquet, 
and  Azincour.  For  his  services  at  Fontenoy  against  the 
English,  the  heroic  Charles  Martel  appointed  the  four- 
teenth Baron  Hereditary  Grand  Bootjack  of  the  kingdom 
of  France  :  and  for  wealth,  for  splendour,  and  for  skill  and 
fame  in  war,  Eaoul  the  twenty-eighth  Baron,  was  in  no 
wise  inferior  to  his  noble  ancestors. 

That  the  Baron  Eaoul  levied  toll  upon  the  river,  and 
mail  upon  the  shore ;  that  he  now  and  then  ransomed  a 
burgher,  plundered  a  neighbour,  or  drew  the  fangs  of  a 
Jew;  that  he  burned  an  enemy's  castle  with  the  wife  and 
children  within ; — these  were  points  for  which  the  country 
knew  and  respected  the  stout  Baron.  When  he  returned 
from  victory,  he  was  sure  to  endow  the  Church  with  a  part 
of  his  spoil,  so  that  when  he  went  forth  to  battle  he  was 
always  accompanied  by  her  blessing.  Thus  lived  the  Baron 
Raoul,  the  pride  of  the  country  in  which  he  dwelt,  an  orna- 
ment to  the  Court,  the  Church,  and  his  neighbours. 

But  in  the  midst  of  all  his  power  and  splendour  there 

was  a  domestic  grief  which  deeply  afflicted  the  princely 

Barbazure.    His  lovely  ladies  died  one  after  the  other. 

N"o  sooner  was  he  married  than  he  was  a  widower ;  in  the 
3-— Vol.  19 


48 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


course  of  eighteen  years  no  less  than  nme  bereavements 
had  befallen  the  chieftain.  So  true  it  is,  that  if  fortune  is 
a  parasite,  grief  is  a  republican,  and  visits  the  hall  of  the 
great  and  wealthy  as  it  doth  the  humbler  tenements  of  the 
poor. 

*  •  •  •  « 

"Leave  off  deploring  thy  faithless,  gad-about  lover," 
said  the  Lady  of  Chacabacque  to  her  -  daughter  the  lovely 
Fatima,  "  and  think  how  the  noble  Barbazure  loves  thee ! 
Of  all  the  damsels  at  the  ball  last  night,  he  had  eyes  for 
thee  and  thy  cousin  only." 

"  I  am  sure  my  cousin  hath  no  good  looks  to  be  proud 
of,"  the  admirable  Fatima  exclaimed,  bridling  up.  "Not 
that  I  care  for  my  Lord  of  Barbazure' s  looks.  My  heart, 
dearest  mother,  is  with  him  who  is  far  away !  " 

"He  danced  with  thee  four  galliards,  nine  quadrilles, 
and  twenty-three  corantoes,  I  think,  child,"  the  mother 
said,  eluding  her  daughter's  remark. 

"Twenty-five,"  said  lovely  Fatima,  casting  her  beautiful 
eyes  to  the  ground.  "  Heigho !  but  Eomane  danced  them 
very  well." 

"He  had  not  the  court  air,"  the  mother  suggested. 

"I  don't  wish  to  deny  the  beauty  of  the  Lord  of  Bar- 
bazure's  dancing.  Mamma,"  Fatima  replied.  "For  a  short, 
lusty  man,  'tis  wondrous  how  active  he  is;  and  in  dignity 
the  King's  Grace  himself  could  not  surpass  him." 

"You  were  the  noblest  couple  in  the  room,  love,"  the 
lady  cried. 

"That  pea-green  doublet,  slashed  with  orange-tawney, 
those  ostrich  plumes,  blue,  red  and  yellow,  those  parti- 
coloured hose  and  pink  shoon  became  the  noble  Baron 
wondrous  well,"  Fatima  acknowledged.  "It  must  be  con- 
fessed that,  though  middle-aged,  he  hath  all  the  agility  of 
youth.  But  alas!  Madam!  The  noble  Baron  hath  had  nine 
wives  already." 

"And  your  cousin  would  give  her  eyes  to  become  the 
tenth,"  the  mother  replied. 

"My  cousin  give  her  eyes!"  Fatima  exclaimed.  "It's 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


49 


not  much,  I'm  sure,  for  she  squints  abominably ;  and  thus 
the  ladies  prattled,  as  they  rode  home  at  night  after  the 
great  ball  at  the  house  of  the  Baron  of  Barbazure. 

The  gentle  reader,  who  has  overheard  their  talk,  will 
understand  the  doubts  which  pervaded  the  mind  of  the 
lovely  Fatima,  and  the  well-nurtured  English  maiden  will 
participate  in  the  divided  feelings  which  rent  her  bosom. 
'Tis  true,  that  on  Tiis  departure  for  the  holy  wars,  Eomane 
and  Fatima  were  plighted  to  each  other ;  but  the  folly  of 
long  engagements  is  proverbial:  and  though  for  many 
months  the  faithful  and  affectionate  girl  had  looked  in  vain 
for  news  from  him,  her  admirable  parents  had  long  spoken 
with  repugnance  of  a  match  which  must  bring  inevitable 
poverty  to  both  parties.  They  had  suffered,  'tis  true,  the 
engagement  to  subsist,  hostile  as  they  ever  were  to  it ;  but 
when  on  the  death  of  the  ninth  lady  of  Barbazure,  the 
noble  Baron  remarked  Fatima  at  the  funeral,  and  rode 
home  with  her  after  the  ceremony,  her  prudent  parents  saw 
how  much  wiser,  better,  happier,  for  their  child  it  would 
be  to  have  for  life  a  partner  like  the  Baron,  than  to  wait 
the  doubtful  return  of  the  penniless  wanderer  to  whom  she 
was  plighted. 

Ah !  how  beautiful  and  pure  a  being !  how  regardless  of 
self !  how  true  to  duty !  how  obedient  to  parental  command, 
is  that  earthly  angel,  a  well-bred  woman  of  genteel  family ! 
Instead  of  indulging  in  splenetic  refusals  or  vain  regrets 
for  her  absent  lover,  the  exemplary  Fatima,  at  once  signi- 
fied to]  her  excellent  parents  her  willingness  to  obey  their 
orders ;  though  she  had  sorrows  (and  she  declared  them  to 
be  tremendous)  the  admirable  being  disguised  them  so 
well,  that  none  knew  they  oppressed  her.  She  said  she 
would  try  to  forget  former  ties,  and  (so  strong  in  her  mind 
was  duty  above  every  other  feeling;  so  strong  may  it  be  in 
every  British  maiden !)  the  lovely  girl  kept  her  promise. 

"My  former  engagements,''  she  said,  packing  up  Eo- 
mane's  letters  and  presents,  (which,  as  the  good  knight 
was  mortal  poor  were  in  sooth  of  no  great  price) — "my 
former  engagements  I  look  upon  as  childish  follies;  my 


50 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


affections  are  fixed  where  my  dear  parents  graft  them — on 
the  noble,  the  princely,  the  polite  Barbazure.  'Tis  true  he 
is  not  comely  in  feature,  but  the  chaste  and  well-bred 
female  knows  how  to  despise  the  fleeting  charms  of  form. 
^Tis  true  he  is  old;  but  can  woman  be  better  employed  than 
in  tending  her  aged  and  sickly  companion?  That  he  has 
been  married  is  likewise  certain — but  ah,  my  mother !  who 
knows  not  that  he  must  be  a  good  and  tender  husband, 
who,  nine  times  wedded,  owns  that  he  cannot  be  happy 
without  another  partner? 

It  was  with  these  admirable  sentiments,  the  lovely  Fati- 
ma  proposed  obedience  to  her  parents'  will,  and  consented 
to  receive  the  magnificent  marriage  gift  presented  to  her  by 
her  gallant  bridegroom. 

The  old  Countess  of  Chacabacque  had  made  a  score  of 
vain  attempts  to  see  her  hapless  daughter.  Ever,  when 
she  came,  the  porters  grinned  at  her  savagely  through  the 
grating  of  the  portcullis  of  the  vast  embattled  gate  of 
the  Castle  of  Barbazure,  and  rudely  bade  her  begone.  The 
Lady  of  Barbazure  sees  nobody  but  her  confessor,  and 
keeps  her  chamber,"  was  the  invariable  reply  of  the  dogged 
functionaries  to  the  entreaties  of  the  agonised  mother. 
And  at  length,  so  furious  was  he  at  her  perpetual  calls  at 
his  gate,  that  the  angry  Lord  of  Barbazure  himself,  who 
chanced  to  be  at  the  postern,  aimed  a  cross-bow,  and  let  fly 
an  arblast  at  the  crupper  of  the  lady's  palfrey,  whereon  she 
fled  finally,  screaming,  and  in  terror.  I  will  aim  at  the 
rider  next  time !  "  howled  the  ferocious  Baron,  "  and  not  at 
the  horse !  "  And  those  who  knew  his  savage  nature  and 
his  unrivalled  skill  as  a  bowman,  knew  that  he  would 
neither  break  his  knightly  promise  nor  miss  his  aim. 

Since  the  fatal  day  when  the  Grand  Duke  of  Burgundy 
gave  his  famous  passage  of  arms  at  Nantes,  and  all  the 
nobles  of  France  were  present  at  the  joustings,  it  was  re- 
marked that  the  Barbazure' s  heart  was  changed  towards  his 
gentle  and  virtuous  lady. 

For  the  three  first  days  of  that  famous  festival,  the  re- 
doubted Baron  of  Barbazure  had  kept  the  field  against  all 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


51 


the  knights  who  entered.  His  lance  bore  everything  down 
before  it.  The  most  famous  champions  of  Europe,  assem- 
bled at  those  joustings,  had  dropped  one  by  one,  before  this 
tremendous  warrior.  The  prize  of  the  tourney  was  destined 
to  be  his,  and  he  was  to  be  proclaimed  bravest  of  the  brave, 
as  his  lady  was  fairest  of  the  fair. 

On  the  third  day,  however,  as  the  sun  was  declining  over 
the  Vosges,  and  the  shadows  were  lengthening  over  the 
plain  where  the  warrior  had  obtained  such  triumphs  — after 
having  overcome  two  hundred  and  thirteen  knights  of  dif- 
ferent nations,  including  the  fiery  Dunois,  the  intrepid 
Walter  Manny,  the  spotless  Bayard,  and  the  undaunted 
Duguesclin,  as  the  conqueror  sate  still  erect  on  his  charger, 
and  the  multitude  doubted  whether  ever  another  champion 
could  be  found  to  face  him,  three  blasts  of  a  trumpet  were 
heard,  faint  at  first,  but  at  every  moment  ringing  more 
clearly,  until  a  knight  in  pink  armour  rode  into  the  lists 
with  his  visor  down,  and  riding  a  tremendous  dun  charger, 
which  he  managed  to  the  admiration  of  all  present. 

The  heralds  asked  him  his  name  and  quality. 

"Call  me,"  said  he,  in  a  hollow  voice,  "the  Jilted 
Knight. "  What  was  it  made  the  Lady  of  Barbazure  trem- 
ble at  his  accents? 

The  knight  refused  to  tell  his  name  and  qualities ;  but 
the  companion  who  rode  with  him,  the  young  and  noble 
Philibert  de  Coquelicot,  who  was  known  and  respected  uni- 
versally through  the  neighbourhood,  gave  a  warranty  for 
the  birth  and  noble  degree  of  the  Jilted  Knight, — and 
Kaoul  de  Barbazure,  yelling  hoarsely  for  a  two  hundred 
and  fourteenth  lance,  shook  the  huge  weapon  in  the  air  as 
though  it  were  a  reed,  and  prepared  to  encounter  the  in- 
truder. 

According  to  the  wont  of  chivalry,  and  to  keep  the  point 
of  the  spear  from  harm,  the  top  of  the  unknown  knight's 
lance  was  shielded  with  a  bung,  which  the  warrior  removed; 
and  galloping  up  to  Barbazure' s  pavilion,  over  which  his 
shield  hung,  touched  that  noble  cognizance  with  the  sharp- 
ened steel.    A  thrill  of  excitement  ran  through  the  assem- 


52 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


bly  at  this  daring  challenge  to  a  combat  a  Voutrance, 
"  Hast  thou  confessed,  Sir  Knight?  roared  the  Barbazure ; 
"  take  thy  ground,  and  look  to  thyself ;  for  by  Heaven  thy 
last  hour  is  come !  "  Poor  youth,  poor  youth !  sighed  the 
spectators;  he  has  called  down  his  own  fate.  The  next 
minute  the  signal  was  given,  and  as  the  simoom  across  the 
desert,  the  cataract  down  the  rock,  the  shell  from  the 
howitzer,  each  warrior  rushed  from  his  goal.  .  .  . 

"  Thou  wilt  not  slay  so  good  a  champion ! said  the 
Grand  Duke,  as  at  the  end  of  that  terrific  combat  the 
knight  in  rose  armour  stood  over  his  prostrate  foe,  whose 
helmet  had  rolled  off  when  he  was  at  length  unhorsed,  and 
whose  blood-shot  eyes  glared  unutterable  hate  and  ferocity 
on  his  conqueror. 

"Take  thy  life,'^  said  he  who  had  styled  himself  the 
Jilted  Knight;  "thou  hast  taken  all  that  was  dear  to 
mine ; and  the  sun  setting,  and  no  other  warrior  appear- 
ing to  do  battle  against  him,  he  was  proclaimed  the  con- 
queror, and  rode  up  to  the  duchess's  balcony  to  receive  the 
gold  chain  which  was  the  reward  of  the  victor.  He  raised 
his  visor  as  the  smiling  princess  guerdoned  him — raised  it, 
and  gave  one  sad  look  towards  the  Lady  Fatima  at  her  side! 

"Eomane  de  Clos-Vougeot !  "  shrieked  she,  and  fainted. 
The  Baron  of  Barbazure  heard  the  name  as  he  writhed  on 
the  ground  with  his  wound,  and  by  his  slighted  honour,  by 
his  broken  ribs,  by  his  roused  fury,  he  swore  revenge ;  and 
the  Lady  Fatima,  who  had  come  to  the  tourney  as  a  Queen, 
returned  to  her  castle  as  a  prisoner. 

(As  it  is  impossible  to  give  in  the  limits  of  our  periodical 
the  whole  of  this  remarkable  novel,  let  it  suflGlce  to  say 
briefly  here,  that  in  about  a  volume  and  a  half,  in  which 
the  descriptions  of  scenery,  the  account  of  the  agonies  of 
the  Baroness  kept  on  bread  and  water  in  her  dungeon,  and 
the  general  tone  of  morality,  are  all  excellently  worked  out, 
the  Baron  de  Barbazure  resolves  upon  putting  his  wife  to 
death  by  the  hands  of  the  public  executioner. ) 

Two  minutes  before  the  clock  struck  noon,  the  savage 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


53 


Baron  was  on  the  platform  to  inspect  the  preparations  for 
the  frightful  ceremony  of  mid-day. 

The  block  was  laid  forth — the  hideous  minister  of  ven- 
geance, masked  and  in  black,  with  the  flaming  glaive  in  his 
hand,  was  ready.  The  Baron  tried  the  edge  of  the  blade 
with  his  finger,  and  asked  the  dreadful  swordsman  if  his 
hand  was  sure?  A  nod  was  the  reply  of  the  man  of  blood. 
The  weeping  garrison  and  domestics  shuddered  and  shrank 
from  him.  There  was  not  one  there  but  loved  and  pitied 
the  gentle  lady. 

Pale,  pale  as  a  stone,  she  was  brought  from  her  dungeon. 
To  all  her  lord's  savage  interrogatories,  her  reply  had  been, 
^^I  am  innocent.'^  To  his  threats  of  death,  her  answer 
was,  "  You  are  my  lord ;  my  life  is  in  your  hands,  to  take 
or  to  give."  How  few  are  the  wives,  in  our  day,  who 
show  such  angelic  meekness !  It  touched  all  hearts  around 
her,  save  that  of  the  implacable  Barbazure.  Even  the  Lady 
Blanche  (Fatima's  cousin)  whom  he  had  promised  to  marry 
upon  his  faithless  wife's  demise,  besought  for  her  kins- 
woman's life,  and  a  divorce,  but  Barbazure  had  vowed  her 
death. 

"Is  there  no  pity,  sir?  "  asked  the  chaplain  who  had  at- 
tended her.  "No  pity,"  echoed  the  weeping  serving-maid. 
"  Did  I  not  aye  say  I  would  die  for  my  lord?  "  said  the 
gentle  lady,  and  placed  herself  at  the  block. 

Sir  Kaoul  de  Barbazure  seized  up  the  long  ringlets  of  her 
raven  hair.  "  Now !  "  shouted  he  to  the  executioner,  with 
a  stamp  of  his  foot,  "  Now  strike !  " 

The  man  (who  knew  his  trade)  advanced  at  once,  and 
poised  himself  to  deliver  his  blow :  and,  making  his  flash- 
ing sword  sing  in  the  air,  with  one  irresistible,  rapid  stroke, 
it  sheared  clean  off  the  head  of — the  furious,  the  blood- 
thirsty, the  implacable  Baron  de  Barbazure ! 

Thus  he  fell  a  victim  to  his  own  jealousy;  and  the  agita- 
tion of  the  Lady  Fatima  may  be  imagined  when  the  execu- 
tioner, flinging  off  his  mask,  knelt  gracefully  at  her  feet, 
and  revealed  to  her  the  well-known  features  of  Komand  de 
Clos-Vougeot. 


54  NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


PHIL  FOGARTY. 

A  TALE  OF  THE  FIGHTING  ONETY-ONETH. 
By  Harry  Kollicker. 

The  gabion  was  ours.  After  two  hours'  fighting  we 
were  in  possession  of  the  first  embrasure,  and  made  our- 
selves as  comfortable  as  circumstances  would  admit.  Jack 
Delamere,  Tom  Delaney,  Jerry  Blake,  the  Doctor,  and 
myself,  sate  down  under  a  pontoon,  and  our  servants  laid 
out  a  hasty  supper  on  a  tumbril.  Though  Cambaceres  had 
escaped  me  so  provokingly  after  I  cut  him  down,  his  spoils 
were  mine,  a  cold  fowl  and  a  Bologna  sausage  were  found 
in  the  Marshal's  holsters ;  and  in  the  haversack  of  a  French 
private  who  lay  a  corpse  on  the  glacis,  we  found  a  loaf  of 
bread,  his  three  days'  ration.  Instead  of  salt  we  had  gun- 
powder ;  and  you  may  be  sure,  wherever  the  Doctor  was,  a 
flask  of  good  brandy  was  behind  him  in  his  instrument-case. 
We  sate  down  and  made  a  soldier's  supper.  The  Doctor 
pulled  a  few  of  the  delicious  fruit  from  the  lemon-trees 
growing  near  (and  round  which  the  Carabiniers  and  the 
24th  Leger  had  made  a  desperate  rally),  and  punch  was 
brewed  in  Jack  Delamere's  helmet. 

"Faith,  it  never  had  so  much  wit  in  it  before,"  said  the 
Doctor,  as  he  ladled  out  the  drink.  We  all  roared  with 
laughter,  except  the  guardsman,  who  was  as  savage  as  a 
Turk  at  a  christening. 

"  Biivez-en,^^  said  old  Sawbones  to  our  French  prisoner; 
"  voiis  fera  du  hien^  mon  vieux  coq  I "  and  the  Colonel, 
whose  wound  had  been  just  dressed,  eagerly  grasped  at 
the  proffered  cup,  and  drained  it  with  a  health  to  the 
donors. 

How  strange  are  the  chances  of  war !  But  half-an-hour 
before  he  and  I  were  engaged  in  mortal  combat,  and  our 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


55 


prisoner  was  all  but  my  conqueror.  Grappling  with  Cam- 
baceres,  whom  I  had  knocked  from  his  horse,  and  was  about 
to  despatch,  I  felt  a  lunge  behind,  which  luckily  was  par- 
ried by  my  sabretasche,  a  herculean  grasp  was  at  the  next 
instant  at  my  throat — I  was  on  the  ground — my  prisoner 
had  escaped,  and  a  gigantic  warrior  in  the  uniform  of  a 
colonel  of  the  regiment  of  Artois  glaring  over  me  with 
pointed  sword.  ; 
Rends-toi,  coqitin  I  said  he. 
"  Allez  au  Diahle  I "  says  1,  "  a  Fogarty  never  surren- 
ders." 

I  thought  of  my  poor  mother  and  my  sisters,  at  the  old 
house  in  Killaloo — I  felt  the  tip  of  his  blade  between  my 
teeth — I  breathed  a  prayer  and  shut  my  eyes — when  the 
tables  were  turned — the  butt-end  of  Lanty  Clancy's  musket 
knocked  the  sword  up  and  broke  the  arm  that  held  it. 

"  Thonamoundiaoid  nahochlish,^^  said  the  French  officer,  ^ 
with  a  curse  in  the  purest  Irish.  It  was  lucky  that  I 
stopped  laughing  time  enough  to  bid  Lanty  hold  his  hand, 
for  the  honest  fellow  would  else  have  brained  my  gallant 
adversary.  We  were  the  better  friends  for  our  combat,  as 
what  gallant  hearts  are  not? 

The  breach  was  to  be  stormed  at  sunset,  and  like  true 
soldiers  we  sate  down  to  make  the  most  of  our  time.  The 
rogue  of  a  Doctor  took  the  liver-wing  for  his  share — we 
gave  the  other  to  our  guest,  a  prisoner ;  those  scoundrels 
Jack  Delamereand  Tom  Delaneytook  the  legs — and,  faith, 
poor  I  was  put  off  with  the  Pope's  nose,  and  a  bit  of  the 
back. 

"How  d'ye  like  his  Holiness's  fayture?^^  said  Jerry 
Blake. 

"Anyhow  you'll  have  a  merry  thought, cried  the  incor- 
rigible Doctor,  and  all  the  party  shrieked  at  the  witticism. 

"  De  mortuis  nil  nisi  honum,^  said  Jack,  holding  up  the 
drumstick  clean. 

"Faith,  there's  not  enough  of  it  to  make  us  chicken- 
hearted,  anyhow,"  said  I;  "come,  boys,  let's  have  a 
song." 


56 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


"Here  goes/'  said  Tom  Delaney,  and  sang  the  following 
lyric,  of  his  own  composition : — 

"  Dear  Jack,  this  white  mug  that  with  Guinness  I  fill, 
And  drink  to  the  health  of  sweet  Nan  of  the  Hill, 
Was  once  Tommy  Tosspot's,  as  jovial  a  sot, 
As  e'er  drew  a  spiggot,  or  drained  a  full  pot — 
In  drinking  all  round  'twas  his  joy  to  surpass, 
And  with  all  merry  tipplers  he  drank  ofi  his  glass, 

"  One  morning  in  summer,  while  seated  so  snug, 
In  the  porch  of  his  garden,  discussing  his  jug, 
Stern  Death,  on  a  sudden,  to  Tom  did  appear, 
And  said,  '  Honest  Thomas,  come  take  your  last  bier;' 
We  kneaded  his  clay  in  the  shape  of  this  can, 
From  which  let  us  drink  to  the  health  of  my  Nan." 

"Psha!"  said  the  Doctor,  "I've  heard  that  song  before; 
here's  a  new  one  for  you,  boys!  and  Sawbones  began,  in 
a  rich  Corkagian  voice  : — 

"You've  all  heard  of  Larry  O'Toole, 
Of  the  beautiful  town  of  Drumgoole ; 
He  had  but  one  eye, 
To  ogle  ye  by — 
O,  murther,  but  that  was  a  jew'H 
A  fool 

He  made  of  de  girls,  dis  O'Toole. 

'Twas  he  was  the  boy  didn't  fail. 
That  tuck  down  pataties  and  mail; 

He  never  would  shrink, 

From  any  sthrong  dthrink, 
Was  it  whisky  or  Drogheda  ale ; 

I'm  bail. 
This  Larry  would  swallow  a  pail. 

O,  many  a  night,  at  the  bowl. 

With  Larry  I've  sot  cheek  by  jowl ; 
He's  gone  to  his  rest. 
Where  there's  dthrink  of  the  best, 

And  so  let  us  give  his  old  sowl 
A  howl, 

For  'twas  he  made  the  noggin  to  rowl.'* 

I  observed  the  French  Colonel's  eye  glisten  as  he  heard 
these  well-known  accents  of  his  country ;  but  we  were  too 
well-bred  to  pretend  to  remark  his  emotion. 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


57 


The  sun  was  setting  behind  the  mountains  as  our  songs 
were  finished,  and  each  began  to  look  out  with  some  anxiety 
for  the  preconcerted  signal,  the  rocket  from  Sir  Hussey 
Vivian's  quarters,  which  was  to  announce  the  recommence- 
ment of  hostilities.  It  came  just  as  the  moon  rose  in  her 
silver  splendour,  and  ere  the  rocket-stick  fell  quivering  to 
earth  at  the  feet  of  General  Picton  and  Sir  Lowry  Cole, 
-  who  were  at  their  posts  at  the  head  of  the  storming  parties, 
nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine  guns  in  position  opened  their 
fire  from  our  batteries,  which  were  answered  by  a  tremen- 
dous cannonade  from  the  fort. 

"Who's  going  to  dance?"  said  the  Doctor,  "the  ball's 
begun.  Ha!  there  goes  poor  Jack  Delamere's  head  off! 
The  ball  chose  a  soft  one,  anyhow.  Come  here,  Tim,  till 
I  mend  your  leg.  Your  wife  need  only  knit  half  as  many 
stockings  next  year,  Doolan,  my  boy.  Faix!  there  goes  a 
big  one  had  well-nigh  stopped  my  talking ;  bedad !  it  has 
snuffed  the  feather  off  my  cocked  hat!  " 

In  this  way,  with  eighty-four  pounders  roaring  over  us 
like  hail,  the  undaunted  little  Doctor  pursued  his  jokes 
and  his  duty.  That  he  had  a  feeling  heart,  all  who  served 
with  him  knew,  and  none  more  so  than  Philip  Fogarty,  the 
humble  writer  of  this  tale  of  war. 

Our  embrasure  was  luckily  bomb-proof,  and  the  detach- 
ment of  the  gallant  Onety-oneth  uuder  my  orders  suffered 
comparatively  little.  "Be  cool,  boys,"  I  said;  "it  will  be 
hot  enough  work  for  you  ere  long."  The  honest  fellows 
answered  with  an  Irish  cheer.  I  saw  that  it  affected  our 
prisoner. 

"Countryman,"  said  I,  "I  know  you;  but  an  Irishman 
was  never  a  traitor." 

"  Taisez'votts  I  said  he,  putting  his  finger  to  his  lip. 
"  C^est  la  fortune  de  la  guerre  :  if  ever  you  come  to  Paris, 
ask  for  the  Marquis  D'  O'Mahony,  and  I  may  render  you 
the  hospitality  which  your  tyrannous  laws  prevent  me 
from  exercising  in  the  ancestral  halls  of  my  own  race." 

I  shook  him  warmly  by  the  hand  as  a  tear  bedimmed  his 
eye.    It  was,  then,  the  celebrated  Colonel  of  the  Irish 


58 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


Brigade,  created  a  Marquis  by  Napoleon  on  the  field  of 
Austerlitz ! 

Marquis,"  said  I,  "the  country  which  disowns  you  is 
proud  of  you ;  but — ha !  here,  if  I  mistake  not,  comes  our 
signal  to  advance."  And  in  fact  Captain  Vandeleur,  rid- 
ing up  through  the  shower  of  shot,  asked  for  the  com- 
mander of  the  detachment,  and  bade  me  hold  myself  in 
readiness  to  move  as  soon  as  the  flank  companies  of  the 
Ninety-ninth,  and  Sixty-sixth,  and  the  Grenadier  Brigade 
of  the  German  Legion  began  to  advance  up  the  echelon. 
The  devoted  band  soon  arrived:  Jack  Bowser  heading  the 
Ninety-ninth,  (when  was  he  away  and  a  storming  party  to 
the  fore?),  and  the  gallant  Potztausend  with  his  Hanoverian 
veterans. 

The  second  rocket  flew  up. 

"Forward,  Onety-oneth,"  cried  I,  in  a  voice  of  thunder. 
"  Killaloo  boys,  follow  your  Captain ! "  and  with  a  shrill 
hurray,  that  sounded  above  the  tremendous  fire  from  the 
fort,  we  sprung  up  the  steep;  Bowser,  with  the  brave 
Ninety-ninth,  and  the  bold  Potztausend,  keeping  well  up 
with  us.  We  passed  the  demilune,  we  cleared  the  culverin, 
bayoneting  the  artillerymen  at  their  guns;  we  advanced 
across  the  two  tremendous  demilunes  which  flank  the  coun- 
terscarp, and  prepared  for  the  final  spring  upon  the  citadel. 
Soult  I  could  see  quite  pale  on  the  wall ;  and  the  scoundrel 
Cambaceres,  who  had  been  so  nearly  my  prisoner  that  day, 
trembled  as  he  cheered  his  men.  "On  boys,  on!"  I 
hoarsely  exclaimed.  "  Hurroo,"  said  the  fighting  Onety- 
oneth. 

But  there  was  a  movement  among  the  enemy.  An  offi- 
cer, glittering  with  orders,  and  another  in  a  grey  coat  and 
a  cocked  hat,  came  to  the  wall,  and  I  recognised  the  Em- 
peror Napoleon  and  the  famous  Joachim  Murat. 

"We  are  hardly  pressed,  methinks,"  Napoleon  said 
sternly.  "  I  must  exercise  my  old  trade  as  an  artillery- 
man;" and  Murat  loaded,  and  the  Emperor  pointed  the 
only  hundred-and-twenty-four  pounder  that  had  not  been 
silenced  by  our  fire. 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


59 


"  Hurray,  Killaloo  boys !  shouted  I.  The  next  moment 
a  sensation  of  numbness  and  death  seized  me,  and  I  lay  like 
a  corpse  upon  the  rampart. 

"  Hush !  said  a  voice,  which  I  recognised  to  be  that  of 
the  Marquis  D'  O^Mahony.  Heaven  be  praised,  reason 
has  returned  to  you.  For  six  weeks  those  are  the  only 
sane  words  I  have  heard  from  you." 

"  Faix,  and  ^tis  thrne  for  you,  Colonel  dear,"  cried  another 
voice,  with  which  I  was  even  more  familiar;  'twas  that  of 
my  honest  and  gallant  Lanty  Clancy,  who  was  blubbering 
at  my  bedside,  overjoyed  at  his  master's  recovery. 

"0  musha!  Masther  Phil.  Agrah!  but  this  will  be  the 
great  day  intirely,  when  I  send  off  the  news,  which  I 
would,  barrin'  I  can't  write,  to  the  lady,  your  mother,  and 
your  sisters,  at  Castle  Fogarty;  and  'tis  his  Riv'rence 
Father  Luke  will  jump  for  joy  thin,  when  he  reads  the 
letthur !  Six  weeks  ravin'  and  roarin'  as  bould  as  a  lion, 
and  as  mad  as  Mick  Malony's  pig,  that  mistuck  Mick's 
wig  for  a  cabbage,  and  died  of  atin'  it ! " 

And  have  I  then  lost  my  senses?  "  I  exclaimed  feebly. 

^^Sure,  didn't  ye  call  me  your  beautiful  Donna  Anna 
only  yesterday,  and  catch  hould  of  me  whiskers  as  if  they 
were  the  Signora's  jet  black  ringlets?  "  Lanty  cried. 

At  this  moment,  and  blushing  deeply,  the  most  beautiful 
young  creature  I  ever  set  my  eyes  upon,  rose  from  a  chair 
at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and  sailed  out  of  the  room. 

"Confusion!  you  blundering  rogue,"  I  cried,  "who  is 
that  lovely  lady  whom  you  frightened  away  by  your  im- 
pertinence?   Donna  Anna?    Where  am  I?  " 

"You  are  in  good  hands,  Philip,"  said  the  Colonel,  "you 
are  at  my  house  in  the  Place  Vendome,  at  Paris,  of  which 
I  am  the  Military  Governor.  You  and  Lanty  were  knocked 
down  by  the  wind  of  the  cannon-ball  at  Burgos.  Do  not 
be  ashamed:  'twas  the  Emperor  pointed  the  gun;"  and 
the  Colonel  took  off  his  hat  as  he  mentioned  the  name  dar- 
ling to  France.  "  When  our  troops  returned  from  the  sally 
in  which  your  gallant  storming-party  was  driven  back,  you 


60 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


were  found  on  the  glacis,  and  I  had  you  brought  into  the 
city.  Your  reason  had  left  you,  however,  when  you  re- 
turned to  life ;  but,  unwilling  to  desert  the  son  of  my  old 
friend,  Philip  Fogarty,  who  saved  my  life  in  '98,  I  brought 
you  in  my  carriage  to  Paris." 

"And  many's  the  time  you  tried  to  jump  out  of  the 
windy,  Masther  Phil,"  said  Clancy. 

"Brought  you  to  Paris,"  resumed  the  Colonel  smiling, 
"where,  by  the  soins  of  my  friends  Broussais,  Esquirol, 
and  Baron  Larrey,  you  have  been  restored  to  health,  thank 
Heaven !  " 

"And  that  lovely  angel  who  quitted  the  apartment?"  I 
cried. 

"  That  lovely  angel  is  the  Lady  Blanche  Sarsfield,  my 
ward,  a  descendant  of  the  gallant  Lucan,  and  who  may  be, 
when  she  chooses,  Madame  la  Marechale  de  Cambaceres, 
Duchess  of  lUyria." 

"Why  did  you  deliver  the  ruffian  when  he  was  in  my 
grasp?  "  I  cried. 

"  Why  did  Lanty  deliver  you  when  in  mine?  "  the  Colo- 
nel replied.  "  C^est  la  fortune  de  la  guerre,  mon  gargon  ; 
but  calm  yourself,  and  take  this  potion  which  Blanche  has 
prepared  for  you." 

I  drank  the  tisane  eagerly  when  I  heard  whose  fair  hands 
had  compounded  it,  and  its  effects  were  speedily  beneficial 
to  me,  for  I  sank  into  a  cool  and  refreshing  slumber. 

From  that  day  I  began  to  mend  rapidly,  with  all  the 
elasticity  of  youth's  happy  time.  Blanche — the  enchant- 
ing Blanche — ministered  henceforth  to  me,  for  I  would 
take  no  medicine  but  from  her  lily  hand.  And  what  were 
the  effects?  Faith,  ere  a  month  was  past,  the  patient  was 
over  head  and  ears  in  love  with  the  doctor;  and  as  for 
Baron  Larrey,  and  Broussais,  and  Esquirol,  they  were  sent 
to  the  right-about.  In  a  short  time  I  was  in  a  situation  to 
do  justice  to  the  gigot  aux  navets,  the  boeuf  aux  cornichonsy 
and  the  other  delicious  entremets  of  the  Marquis's  board, 
with  an  appetite  that  astonished  some  of  the  Frenchmen 
who  frequented  it. 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


61 


"Wait  till  he's  quite  well,  Miss,"  said  Larry,  who 
waited  always  behind  me.  "Faith!  when  he's  in  health, 
I'd  back  him  to  ate  a  cow,  barrin'  the  horns  and  teel.''  I 
sent  a  decanter  at  the  rogue' s  head,  by  way  of  answer  to 
his  impertinence. 

Although  the  disgusting  Cambaceres  did  his  best  to  have 
my  parole  withdrawn  from  me,  and  to  cause  me  to  be  sent 
to  the  English  depot  of  prisoners  at  Verdun,  the  Marquis's 
interest  with  the  Emperor  prevailed,  and  I  was  allowed  to 
remain  at  Paris,  the  happiest  of  prisoners  at  the  Colonel's 
hotel  at  the  Place  Vendome.  I  here  had  the  opportunity 
(an  opportunity  not  lost,  I  flatter  myself,  on  a  young  fel- 
low with  the  accomplishments  of  Philip  Fogarty,  Esq.)  of 
mixing  with  the  elite  of  French  society,  and  meeting  with 
many  of  the  great,  the  beautiful,  and  the  brave.  Talley- 
rand was  a  frequent  guest  of  the  Marquis's.  His  howmots 
used  to  keep  the  table  in  a  roar.  Ney  frequently  took  his 
chop  with  us ;  Murat,  when  in  town,  constantly  dropt  in 
for  a  cup  of  tea  and  friendly  round  game.  Alas!  who 
would  have  thought  those  two  gallant  heads  would  be 
so  soon  laid  low !  My  wife  has  a  pair  of  earrings  which 
the  latter,  who  always  wore  them,  presented  to  her — but 
we  are  advancing  matters.  Anybody  could  see,  "  avec  im 
demi'ceiV^  as  the  Prince  of  Benevento  remarked,  how 
affairs  went  between  me  and  Blanche;  but  though  she 
loathed  him  for  his  cruelties  and  the  odiousness  of  his 
person,  the  brutal  Cambaceres  still  pursued  his  designs 
upon  her. 

I  recollect  it  was  on  St.  Patrick's  Day.  My  lovely 
friend  had  procured,  from  the  gardens  of  the  Empress 
Josephine,  at  Malmaison  (whom  we  loved  a  thousand  times 
more  than  her  Austrian  successor,  a  sandy-haired  woman, 
between  ourselves,  with  an  odious  squint),  a  quantity  of 
shamrock,  to  garnish  the  hotel,  and  all  the  Irish  in  Paris 
were  invited  to  the  national  festival. 

I  and  Prince  Talleyrand  danced  a  double  hornpipe  with 
Pauline  Bonaparte  and  Madame  de  Stael ;  Marshal  Soult 
went  down  a  couple  of  sets  with  Madame  Kecamier ;  and 


62 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


Robespierre's  widow — an  excellent  gentle  creature,  quite 
unlike  her  husband — stood  up  with  the  Austrian  Ambassa- 
dor. Besides,  the  famous  artists  Baron  G-ros,  David  and 
Nicholas  Poussin,  and  Canova,  who  was  in  town  making  a 
statue  of  the  Emperor,  for  Leo  X.,  and  in  a  word  all  the 
celebrities  of  Paris — as  my  gifted  countrywoman,  the  Wild 
Irish  Girl,  calls  them — were  assembled  in  the  Marquis's 
elegant  receiving-rooms. 

At  last  a  great  outcry  was  raised  for  La  Gigue  Irian- 
daise  I  La  Gigue  Irlandaise  I  a  dance  which  had  made  a 
fiireur  amongst  the  Parisians  ever  since  the  lovely  Blanche 
Sarsfield  had  danced  it.  She  stepped  forward  and  took 
me  for  a  partner,  and  amidst  the  bravos  of  the  crowd,  in 
which  stood  Ney,  Murat,  Lannes,  the  Prince  of  Wagram, 
and  the  Austrian  Ambassador,  we  showed  to  the  beau 
monde  of  the  French  capital,  I  flatter  myself,  a  not  unfa- 
vourable specimen  of  the  dance  of  our  country. 

As  I  was  cutting  the  double-shuffle,  and  toe-and-heeling 
it  in  the  "  rail "  style,  Blanche  danced  up  to  me,  smiling, 
and  said,  "  Be  on  your  guard ;  I  see  Cambaceres  talking  to 
Fouche,  the  Duke  of  Otranto,  about  us — and  when  Otranto 
turns  his  eyes  upon  a  man,  they  bode  him  no  good." 

'^Cambaceres  is  jealous,"  said  I.  "I  have  it,"  says  she; 
"I'll  make  him  dance  a  turn  with  me."  So  presently,  as 
the  music  was  going  like  mad  all  this  time,  I  pretended 
fatigue  from  my  late  wounds,  and  sate  down.  The  lovely 
Blanche  went  up  smiling,  and  brought  out  Cambaceres  as 
a  second  partner. 

The  Marshal  is  a  lusty  man,  who  makes  desperate  efforts 
to  give  himself  a  waist,  and  the  effect  of  the  exercise  upon 
him  was  speedily  visible.  He  puffed  and  snorted  like  a 
walrus,  drops  trickled  down  his  purple  face,  while  my 
lovely  mischief  of  a  Blanche  went  on  dancing  at  treble 
quick,  till  she  fairly  danced  him  down. 

Who'll  take  the  flure  with  me?  "said  the  charming 
girl,  animated  by  the  sport. 

"Faix,  den,  'tis  I,  Lanty  Clancy! "  cried  my  rascal,  who 
had  been  mad  with  excitement  at  the  scene ;  and,  stepping 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


63 


in  with  a  whoop  and  a  hurroo,  he  began  to  dance  with  such 
a  rapidity,  as  made  all  present  stare. 

As  the  couple  were  footing  it,  there  was  the  noise  as  of 
a  cavalcade  rapidly  traversing  the  Place  Vendome,  and 
stopping  at  the  Marquis's  door.  A  crowd  appeared  to 
mount  the  stair;  the  great  doors  of  the  reception-room 
were  flung  open,  and  two  pages  announced  their  Majesties 
the  Emperor  and  the  Empress.  So  engaged  were  Lanty 
and  Blanche,  that  they  never  heard  the  tumult  occasioned 
by  the  august  approach. 

It  was  indeed  the  Emperor,  who  returning  from  the 
Theatre  Francais,  and  seeing  the  Marquis's  windows  lighted 
up,  proposed  to  the  Empress  to  drop  in  on  the  party.  He 
made  signs  to  the  musicians  to  continue ;  and  the  conqueror 
of  Marengo  and  Friedland  watched  with  interest  the  sim- 
ple evolutions  of  two  happy  Irish  people.  Even  the  Em- 
press smiled;  and,  seeing  this,  all  the  courtiers,  including 
Naples  and  Talleyrand,  were  delighted. 

"  Is  not  this  a  great  day  for  Ireland? ''  said  the  Marquis, 
with  a  tear  trickling  down  his  noble  face.  "0  Ireland! 
0  my  country !  But  no  more  of  that.  Go  up,  Phil,  you 
divvle,  and  offer  her  Majesty  the  choice  of  punch  or  negus." 


Among  the  young  fellows  with  whom  I  was  most  inti- 
mate in  Paris,  was  Eugene  Beauharnais,  the  son  of  the  ill- 
used  and  unhappy  Josephine  by  her  former  marriage  with 
a  French  gentleman  of  good  family.  Having  a  smack  of 
the  old  blood  in  him,  Eugene's  manners  were  much  more 
refined  than  those  of  the  new-fangled  dignitaries  of  the 
Emperor's  Court;  where  (for  my  knife  and  fork  was  regu- 
larly laid  at  the  Tuileries)  I  have  seen  my  poor  friend 
Murat  repeatedly  mistake  a  fork  for  a  toothpick,  and  the 
gallant  Massena  devour  peas  by  means  of  his  knife,  in  a 
way  more  innocent  than  graceful.  Talleyrand,  Eugene, 
and  I,  used  often  to  laugh  at  these  eccentricities  of  our 
brave  friends,  who  certainly  did  not  shine  in  the  drawing- 
room,  however  brilliant  they  were  in  the  field  of  battle. 


64 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


The  Emperor  always  asked  me  to  take  wine  with  him,  and 
was  full  of  kindness  and  attention.  "  I  like  Eugene  "  (he 
would  say  to  me,  pinching  my  ear  confidentially,  as  his 
way  was,) — "  I  like  Eugene  to  keep  company  with  such 
young  fellows  as  you ;  you  have  manners ;  you  have  prin- 
ciples ;  my  rogues  from  the  camp  have  none.  And  I  like 
you,  Philip  my  boy,''  he  added,  ^^for  being  so  attentive  to 
my  poor  wife — the  Empress  Josephine,  I  mean."  All 
these  honours  made  my  friends  at  the  Marquis's  very 
proud,  and  my  enemies  at  Court  crez^er  with  envy.  Among 
these,  the  atrocious  Cambaceres  was  not  the  least  active 
and  envenomed. 

The  cause  of  the  many  attentions  which  were  paid  to 
me,  and  which,  like  a  vain  coxcomb,  I  had  chosen  to 
attribute  to  my  own  personal  amiability,  soon  was  appar- 
ent. Having  formed  a  good  opinion  of  my  gallantry  from 
my  conduct  in  various  actions  and  forlorn  hopes  during  the 
war,  the  Emperor  was  most  anxious  to  attach  me  to  his 
service.  The  Grand  Cross  of  St.  Louis,  the  title  of  Count, 
the  command  of  a  crack  cavalry  regiment,  the  14me 
Chevaux  Marins,  were  the  bribes  that  were  actually  offered 
to  me ;  and,  must  I  say  it !  Blanche,  the  lovely,  the  per- 
fidious Blanche,  was  one  of  the  agents  employed  to  tempt 
me  to  commit  this  act  of  treason. 

"  Object  to  enter  a  foreign  service !  "  she  said,  in  reply  to 
my  refusal.  ^'  It  is  you,  Philip,  who  are  in  a  foreign  ser- 
vice. The  Irish  nation  is  in  exile,  and  in  the  territories  of 
its  French  allies.  Irish  traitors  are  not  here;  they  march 
alone  under  the  accursed  flag  of  the  Saxon,  whom  the  great 
Napoleon  would  have  swept  from  the  face  of  the  earth,  but 
for  the  fatal  valour  of  Irish  mercenaries !  Accept  this 
offer,  and  my  heart,  my  hand,  my  all  are  yours.  Kef  use 
it,  Philip,  and  we  part." 

^^To  wed  the  abominable  Cambaceres!"  I  cried,  stung 
with  rage.  "To  wear  a  duchess's  coronet,  Blanche!  Ha, 
ha!  Mushrooms,  instead  of  strawberry-leaves,  should 
decorate  the  brows  of  the  upstart  French  nobility.  I  shall 
withdraw  my  parole.    I  demand  to  be  sent  to  prison — to 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


65 


be  exchanged — to  die — anything  rather  than  be  a  traitor, 
and  the  tool  of  a  traitress !  "  Taking  up  my  hat,  I  left  the 
room  in  a  fury;  and  flinging  open  the  door,  tumbled  over 
Cambaceres,  who  was  listening  at  the  keyhole,  and  must 
have  overheard  every  word  of  our  conversation. 

We  tumbled  over  each  other,  as  Blanche  was  shrieking 
with  laughter  at  our  mutual  discomfiture.  Her  scorn  only 
made  me  more  mad ;  and,  having  spurs  on,  I  began  digging 
them  into  Cambaceres'  fat  sides  as  we  rolled  on  the  carpet, 
until  the  Marshal  howled  with  rage  and  anger. 

^^This  insult  must  be  avenged  with  blood !  roared  the 
Duke  of  Illyria. 

^^I  have  already  drawn  it,"  says  I,  ^^with  my  spurs." 

"Malheur  et  malediction  !  "  roared  the  Marshal. 
Hadn't  you  better  settle  your  wig?  "  says  I,  offering 
it  to  him  on  the  tip  of  my  cane,  "and  we'll  arrange  time 
and  place  when  you  have  put  your  jasey  in  order."  I 
shall  never  forget  the  look  of  revenge  which  he  cast  at 
me,  as  I  was  thus  turning  him  into  ridicule  before  his 
mistress. 

"Lady  Blanche,"  I  continued  bitterly,  "as  you  look  to 
share  the  Duke's  coronet,  hadn't  you  better  see  to  his 
wig?  "  and  so  saying  I  cocked  my  hat,  and  walked  out  of 
the  Marquis's  place,  whistling  "Garryowen." 

I  knew  my  man  would  not  be  long  in  following  me,  and 
waited  for  him  in  the  Place  Vendome,  where  I  luckily  met 
Eugene  too,  who  was  looking  at  the  picture-shop  in  the 
corner.  I  explained  to  him  my  affair  in  a  twinkling.  He 
at  once  agreed  to  go  with  me  to  the  ground,  and  commended 
me,  rather  than  otherwise,  for  refusing  the  offer  which  had 
been  made  to  me.  "I  knew  it  would  be  so,"  he  said 
kindly;  "I  told  my  father  you  wouldn't.  A  man  with 
the  blood  of  the  Fogarties,  Phil,  my  boy,  doesn't  wheel 
about  like  these  fellows  of  yesterday."  So,  when  Cam- 
baceres came  out,  which  he  did  presently,  with  a  more 
furious  air  than  before,  I  handed  him  at  once  over  to 
Eugene,  who  begged  him  to  name  a  friend,  and  an  early 
hour  for  the  meeting  to  take  place. 


66  NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 

"Can  you  make  it  before  eleven,  Phil?  "  said  Beauhar- 
nais.  "  The  Emperor  reviews  the  troops  in  the  Bois  de 
Boulogne  at  that  hour,  and  we  might  fight  there  handy  be- 
fore the  review." 

"  Done !  "  said  I.  "  I  want,  of  all  things,  to  see  the  newly 
arrived  Saxon  cavalry  manoeuvre ; on  which  Cambaceres 
giving  me  a  look,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  See  sights !  Watch 
cavalry  manoeuvres!  Make  your  soul,  and  take  measure 
for  a  coffin,  my  boy ! "  walked  away,  naming  our  mutual 
acquaintance,  Marshal  Ney,  to  Eugene,  as  his  second  in  the 
business. 

I  had  purchased  from  Murat  a  very  fine  Irish  horse, 
Bugaboo  out  of  Smithereens,  by  Fadladeen,  which  ran  into 
the  French  ranks  at  Salamanca,  with  poor  Jack  Clonakilty, 
of  the  13th,  dead  on  the  top  of  him.  Bugaboo  was  much 
too  ugly  an  animal  for  the  King  of  Naples,  who,  though  a 
showy  horseman,  was  a  bad  rider  across  country ;  and  I 
got  the  horse  for  a  song.  A  wickeder  and  uglier  brute 
never  wore  pig-skin ;  and  I  never  put  my  leg  over  such  a 
timber- jumper  in  my  life.  I  rode  the  horse  down  to  the 
Bois  de  Boulogne  on  the  morning  that  the  affair  with  Cam- 
baceres was  to  come  off,  and  Lanty  held  him  as  I  went  in 
"sure  to  win,"  as  they  say  in  the  ring. 

Cambaceres  was  known  to  be  the  best  shot  in  the  French 
army ;  but  I,  who  am  a  pretty  good  hand  at  a  snipe,  thought 
a  man  was  bigger,  and  that  I  could  wing  him  if  I  had  a 
mind.  As  soon  as  Ney  gave  the  word,  we  both  fired ;  I 
felt  a  whizz  past  my  left  ear,  and  putting  up  my  hand 
there,  found  a  large  piece  of  my  whiskers  gone ;  whereas 
at  the  same  moment,  and  shrieking  a  horrible  malediction, 
my  adversary  reeled  and  fell. 

"  Mon  DietCy  il  est  mort  I  "  cried  Ney . 
Pas  du  touty^^   said  Beauharnais.      Ecoute ;  il  jure 
toujotcrs,^^ 

And  such,  indeed,  was  the  fact :  the  supposed  dead  man 
lay  on  the  ground  cursing  most  frightfully.  We  went  up 
to  him:  he  was  blind  with  the  loss  of  blood,  and  my 
ball  had  carried  off  the  bridge  of  his  nose.    He  recov- 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


67 


ered ;  but  lie  was  always  called  the  Prince  of  Ponterotto 
in  the  French  army,  afterwards.  The  surgeon  in  attend- 
ance having  taken  charge  of  this  unfortunate  warrior,  we 
rode  off  to  the  review,  where  Ney  and  Eugene  were  on  ^ 
duty  at  the  head  of  their  respective  divisions ;  and  where, 
by  the  way,  Cambaceres,  as  the  French  say,  "  se  faisait 

It  was  arranged  that  Cambaceres'  division  of  six  bat- 
talions and  nine-and-twenty  squadrons  should  execute  a 
ricochet  movement,  supported  by  artillery  in  the  intervals, 
and  converging  by  different  eimuUments  on  the  light  infan- 
try, that  formed,  as  usual,  the  centre  of  the  line.  It  was 
by  this  famous  manoeuvre  that  at  Areola,  at  Montenotte, 
at  Friedland,  and  subsequently  at  Mazagran,  Suwaroff, 
Prince  Charles,  and  General  Castanos  were  defeated  with 
such  victorious  slaughter :  but  it  is  a  movement  which,  I 
need  not  tell  every  military  man,  requires  the  greatest 
delicacy  of  execution,  and  which,  if  it  fails,  plunges  an  army  ^ 
into  confusion. 

"  Where  is  the  Duke  of  Illyria?  ''  Napoleon  asked.  "At 
the  head  of  his  division,  no  doubt,"  said  Murat :  at  which 
Eugene,  giving  me  an  arch  look,  put  his  hand  to  his  nose, 
and  caused  me  almost  to  fall  off  my  horse  with  laughter. 
Napoleon  looked  sternly  at  me ;  but  at  this  moment  the 
troops  getting  in  motion,  the  celebrated  manoeuvre  began, 
and  His  Majesty's  attention  was  taken  off  from  my  impu- 
dence. 

Milhaud's  Dragoons,  their  bands  playing  Vive  Henri 
Quatrcj  their  cuirasses  gleaming  in  the  sunshine,  moved 
upon  their  own  centre  from  the  left  flank  in  the  most  bril- 
liant order,  while  the  Carabineers  of  Foy,  and  the  Grena- 
diers of  the  Guard  under  Drouet  d'Erlon  executed  a  caram- 
bolade  on  the  right,  with  the  precision  which  became  those 
veteran  troops;  but  the  Chasseurs  of  the  young  guard, 
marching  by  twos  instead  of  threes,  bore  consequently  upon 
the  Bavarian  Uhlans  (an  ill-disciplined  and  ill-affected 
body),  and  these,  falling  back  in  disorder,  became  entan- 
gled with  the  artillery  and  the  left  centre  of  the  line,  and 


68 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


in  one  instant  thirty  thousand  men  were  in  inextricable 
confusion. 

"  Clubbed,  by  Jabers !  roared  out  Lanty  Clancy.  "  I 
wish  we  could  show  ^em  the  Fighting  Onety-Oneth,  Cap- 
tain, darling." 

Silence,  fellow !  I  exclaimed.  I  never  saw  the  face 
of  a  man  express  passion  so  vividly  as  now  did  the  livid 
countenance  of  N"apoleon.  He  tore  off  General  Milhaud's 
epaulettes,  which  he  flung  into  Foy's  face.  He  glared 
about  him  wildly,  like  a  demon,  and  shouted  hoarsely  for 
the  Duke  of  Illyria.  "He  is  wounded,  Sire,'^said  General 
Foy,  wiping  a  tear  from  his  eye,  which  was  blackened  by 
the  force  of  the  blow ;  "  he  was  wounded  an  hour  since  in 
a  duel,  Sire,  by  a  young  English  prisoner.  Monsieur  de 
Fogarty." 

"  Wounded !  a  Marshal  of  France  wounded !  Where  is 
the  Englishman?  Bring  him  out,  and  let  a  file  of  grena- 
diers  

"  Sire !    interposed  Eugene. 

"  Let  him  be  shot !  "  shrieked  the  Emperor,  shaking  his 
spyglass  at  me  with  the  fury  of  a  fiend. 

This  was  too  much.  "  Here  goes !  "  said  I,  and  rode  slap 
at  him. 

There  was  a  shriek  of  terror  from  the  whole  of  the 
French  army,  and  I  should  think  at  least  forty  thousand 
guns  were  levelled  at  me  in  an  instant.  But  as  the  muskets 
were  not  loaded,  and  the  cannon  had  only  wadding  in 
them,  these  facts,  I  presume,  saved  the  life  of  Phil  Fogarty 
from  this  discharge. 

Knowing  my  horse,  I  put  him  at  the  Emperor's  head, 
and  Bugaboo  went  at  it  like  a  shot.  He  was  riding  his 
famous  white  Arab,  and  turned  quite  pale  as  I  came  up 
and  went  over  the  horse  and  the  Emperor,  scarcely  brush- 
ing the  cockade  which  he  wore. 

"  Bravo !  "  said  Murat,  bursting  into  enthusiasm  at  the 
leap. 

"  Cut  him  down !  said  Sieyes,  once  an  Abbe,  but  now  a 
gigantic  Cuirassier;  and  he  made  a  pass  at  me  with  his 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS.  69 

sword.  But  he  little  knew  an  Irishman  on  an  Irish  horse. 
Bugaboo  cleared  Sieyes  and  fetched  the  monster  a  slap 
with  his  near  hind  hoof  which  sent  him  reeling  from  his 
saddle — and  away  I  went,  with  an  army  of  a  hundred-and- 
sev^enty-three  thousand  eight  hundred  men  at  my  heels. 


70  NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


CRINOLINE. 

By  Je — MEs  Pl — SH,  Esq. 

I'm  not  at  libbaty  to  divulj  the  reel  names  of  the  2  Eroes 
-  of  the  igstrawny  Tail  which  I  am  abowt  to  relait  to  those 
unlightnd  paytrons  of  lefcarature  and  true  connyshures  of 
merrit — the  great  Brittish  public — But  I  pledgj  my  varacity 
that  this  singular  story  of  rewmantic  love,  absobbing  pashn, 
and  likewise  of  genteel  life,  is,  in  the  main  fax,  trew.  The 
suckmstanzas  I  elude  to,  occurd  in  the  rain  of  our  presnt 
Gratious  Madjisty  and  her  beluvd  and  roil  Concert  Prince 
Halbert. 

Welthen.  Some  time  in  the  seazen  of  18 — (mor  I  dar 
not  rewheel)  there  arrived  in  this  metropulus,  per  seknd 
class  of  the  London  and  Dover  Railway,  an  ellygant  young 
foring  gentleman,  whom  I  shall  danomminate  Munseer 
Jools  de  Chacabac. 

Having  read  through  the  "  Vicker  of  Wackfield  "  in  the 
same  oridganal  English  tung,  in  which  this  very  harticle  I 
write  is  wrote  too,  and  halways  been  remarkyble,  both  at 
collidge  and  in  the  estamminy,  for  his  aytred  and  orror  of 
perfidgus  Halbion,  Munseer  Jools  was  considered  by  the 
prapriretors  of  the  newspaper  in  which  he  wrote,  at  Parris, 
the  very  man  to  come  to  this  country,  igsamin  its  manners 
and  customs,  cast  an  i  upon  the  politticle  and  finanshle  stat 
of  the  Hempire,  and  igspose  the  mackynations  of  the  infy- 
mus  Palmerston,  and  the  ebomminable  Sir  Pill — both  ene- 
mies of  France,  as  is  every  other  Britten  of  that  great, 
gloarus,  libberal,  and  peasable  country.  In  one  word, 
Jools  de  Chacabac  was  a  penny-a-liner. 

"I  will  go  and  see  with  my  own  Ps,''  he  said,  "that 
infimus  hiland  of  which  the  innabitants  are  shopkeepers, 
gorged  with  roast  beef  and  treason.  I  will  go  and  see  the 
murderers  of  the  Hirish,  the  pisoners  of  the  Chynese,  the 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


71 


villains  who  put  the  Hemperor  to  death  in  Saintyleany, 
the  artful  dodges  who  wish  to  smother  Europe  with  their 
cotton,  and  can't  sleep  or  rest  heasy  for  henvy  and  hatred  of 
the  great  inwinsable  French  nation.  I  will  igsammin,  face 
to  face,  these  hotty  insularies ;  I  will  pennytrate  into  the 
secrets  of  their  J essy whittickle  cabinet,  and  beard  Palmer- 
ston  in  his  denn.^'  When  he  jumpt  on  shor  at  Foaxton 
(after  haying  been  tremenguously  sick  in  the  four-cabbing), 
he  exclaimed,  Enfinje  te  tiens^  lie  maudite  I  je  te  crache  a 
la  jigiLve^  veille  Angleterre  !  Je  tefoule  a  mes  pieds  au  nom 
du  monde  outrage and  so  proseaded  to  inwade  the  me- 
tropulus. 

As  he  wisht  to  micks  with  the  very  chicest  sosiaty,  and 
git  the  best  of  inf amation  about  this  country,  Munseer  Jools 
'  of  coarse  went  and  lodgd  in  Lester  Square — Lester  Squarr, 
as  he  calls  it — which,  as  he  was  infommed  in  the  printed 
suckular  presented  to  him  by  a  very  greasy  but  polite  com- 
ishner  at  the  Custumus  Stares,  was  in  the  scenter  of  the 
town,  contiggus  to  the  Ouses  of  Parlyment,  the  prinsple 
Theayters,  the  Parx,  St.  Jams  Pallice  and  the  Corts  of 
Lor.  "  I  can  surwhey  them  all  at  one  cut  of  the  eye,'' 
Jools  thought;  "the  Sovring,  the  infamus  Ministers  plot- 
ting the  destruction  of  my  immortial  country ;  the  business 
and  pleasure  of  these  pusproud  Londoners  and  aristoxy ;  I 
can  look  round  and  see  all."  So  he  took  a  three-pair  back 
-  in  a  French  hotel,  the  Hotel  de  I'Ail,  kep  by  Monsieur 
Gigotot,  Cranbourne  Street,  Lester  Squarr,  London. 

In  this  Otell  there's  a  billiard-room  on  the  first  floor,  and 
a  tabbledoat  at  eighteenpence  peredd  at  5  o'clock;  and  the 
landlord,  who  kem  into  Jools's  room  smoakin  a  segar,  told 
the  young  gent  that  the  house  was  friquented  by  all  the 
British  nobillaty,  who  reglar  took  their  dinners  there. 
"They  can't  ebide  their  own  ^mseen,"  he  said.  "You'll 
see  what  a  dinner  we'll  serve  you  to-day.'^  Jools  wrote  off 
to  his  paper — 

"The  members  of  the  haughty  and  luxurious  English 

aristocracy,  like  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  are  obliged  to  fly 

to  France  for  the  indulgence  of  their  luxuries.    The  nobles 
4 — Vol.  19 


72 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


of  England,  quitting  their  homes,  their  wives,  miladies 
and  mist7nss^  so  fair  but  so  cold,  dine  universally  at  the 
tavern.  That  from  which  I  write  is  frequented  by  Peel 
and  Palmerston.  I  fremis  to  think  that  I  may  meet  them 
at  the  board  to  day. " 

Singular  to  say,  Peel  and  Palmerston  didn't  dine  at  the 
Hotel  de  PAil  on  that  evening.  "It's  quite  igstronnary 
they  don't  come,''  said  Munseer  de  FAil. 

"Peraps  they're  ingaged  at  some  boxing  match,  or  some 
combaiv  de  cocky  ^  Munseer  Jools  sejestedj  and  the  landlord 
egreed  that  was  very  likely. 

Instedd  of  English  there  was,  however,  plenty  of  foring 
sociaty,  of  every  nation  under  the  sun.  Most  of  the  noble- 
men were  great  hamatures  of  hale  and  porter.  The  table- 
cloth was  marked  over  with  brown  suckles,  made  by  the 
pewter  pots  on  that  and  the  privious  days. 

"It  is  the  usage  here,"  wrote  Jools  to  his  newspaper, 
"  among  the  Anglais  of  the  fashonne  to  absorb  immense 
quantities  of  ale  and  porter  during  their  meals.  These 
stupefying,  but  cheap,  and  not  unpalatable  liquors  are 
served  in  shining  pewter  vessels.  A  mug  of  foaming  hafa- 
naf  (so  a  certain  sort  of  beer  is  called)  was  placed  by  the 
side  of  most  of  the  convives.  I  was  disappointed  of  seeing 
Sir  Peel:  he  was  engaged  to  a  combat  of  cocks  which  oc- 
curs at  Windsor." 

Not  one  word  of  English  was  spoke  during  this  dinner, 
excep  when  the  gentlemen  said  "Garsong  de  Vafanafy^ 
but  Jools  was  very  much  pleased  to  meet  the  elect  of  the 
foringers  in  town,  and  ask  their  opinions  about  the  reel 
state  of  thinx.  Was  it  likely  that  the  Bishops  were  to  be 
turned  out  of  the  Chambre  des  Communes?  Was  it  true 
that  Lor  Palmerston  had  boxed  with  Lor  Broghamm  in  the 
House  of  Lords,  until  they  were  sepparayted  by  the  Lor 
Maire?  Who  was  the  Lor  Maire?  Wasn't  he  Premier 
Minister?  and  wasn't  the  Archeveque  de  Cantorbery  a 
Quaker?  He  got  answers  to  these  questions  from  the  va- 
rious gents  round  about  during  the  dinner — which,  he  re- 
marked, was  very  much  like  a  French  dinner,  only  dirtier. 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


73 


And  he  wrote  off  all  the  infamation  he  got  to  his  news- 
paper. 

^^The  Lord  Maire,  Lord  Lansdowne,  is  Premier 
Ministre.  His  Grace  has  his  dwelling  in  the  City.  The 
Archbishop  of  Cantabery  is  not  turned  Quaker,  as  some 
people  stated.  Quakers  may  not  marry  nor  sit  in  the 
Chamber  of  Peers.  The  minor  Bishops  have  seats  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  where  they  are  attacked  by  the  bitter 
pleasantries  of  Lord  Brougham.  A  boxer  is  in  the  House ; 
he  taught  Palmerston  the  science  of  the  pugilate,  who  con- 
ferred upon  him  the  seat/'  etc.  etc. 

His  writing  hover,  Jools  came  down  and  ad  a  gaym  at 
pool  with  two  Poles,  a  Bulgian,  and  2  of  his  own  country- 
men. This  being  done  amidst  more  hafanaf,  without  which 
nothink  is  done  in  England,  and  as  there  was  no  French 
play  that  night,  he  and  the  two  French  gents  walked  round 
and  round  Lester  Squar  smoking  segaws  in  the  faces  of 
other  French  gents  who  were  smoaking  2.  And  they 
talked  about  the  granjer  of  France  and  the  perfidgusness 
of  England,  and  looked  at  the  aluminated  pictur  of  Ma- 
dame Wharton  as  Haryadne^  till  bed-time.  But  befor  he 
slep,  he  finished  his  letter  you  may  be  sure,  and  called  it 
his  "Fust  Lnprestiuns  of  Anglyterre." 

"Mind  and  wake  me  early,''  he  said  to  Boots,  the  ony 
British  subject  in  the  Hotel  de  FAil,  and  who  therefore 
didn't  understand  him.  "  I  wish  to  be  at  Smithfield  at  6 
hours  to  see  the  men  sell  their  wives,'' 

And  the  young  roag  fell  asleep,  thinking  what  sort  of  a 
one  he'd  buy. 

This  was  the  way  Jools  passed  his  days,  and  got  infama- 
tion about  Hengland  and  the  Henglish — walking  round, 
and  round  Lester  Squarr  all  day,  and  every  day  with  the 
same  company,  occasionally  dewussified  by  an  Oprer  Chorus- 
singer  or  a  Jew  or  two,  and  every  afternoon  in  the  Quad- 
drant  admiring  the  genteal  sosiaty  there.  Munseer  Joolg 
was  not  over  well  funnisht  with  pocket-money,  and  so  his 
pleasure  was  of  the  gratis  sort  cheafly. 

Well,  one  day  as  he  and  a  friend  was  taking  their  turn 


74 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


among  the  aristoxy,  under  the  Quadrant — they  were  struck 

all  of  a  heap  by  seeing  But,  stop,  who  was  Jools's 

friend?  But  the  Istory  of  Jools's  friend  must  be  kep  for 
another  innings. 


Not  fur  from  that  knowble  and  cheerfie  Squear  which 
Munseer  Jools  de  Chacabac  had  selacted  for  his  eboad  in 
London — not  fur,  I  say,  from  Lester  Squarr,  is  a  rainje  of 
bildings  called  Pipping' s  Eow,  leading  to  Blue  Lion  Court, 
leading  to  St.  Martin's  Lane.  You  know  Pipping' s  Build- 
ings by  its  greatest  ornament,  an  am  and  beefouce  (where 
Jools  has  often  stood  admiring  the  degstaraty  of  the  carver 
a-cuttin  the  varous  jints),  and  by  the  little  fishmungur's, 
where  you  remark  the  mouldy  lobsters,  the  fly-blown  pickle- 
sammon,  the  playbills,  and  the  gingybear  bottles  in  the 
window — above  all,  by  the  Constantinople  Divan,  kep  by 
the  Misses  Mordeky,  and  well  known  to  every  lover  of  "a 
prime  sigaw  and  an  exlent  cup  of  red  Moky  Coffy  for  6d." 

The  Constantinople  Divan  is  greatly  used  by  the  foring 
gents  of  Lester  Squar.  I  never  ad  the  good  f ortn  to  pass 
down  Pippin g's  Buildings  without  seeing  a  haf-a-duzen  of 
'em  on  the  threshole  of  the  extablishment,  giving  the  street 
an  oppertunity  of  testing  the  odar  of  the  Misses  Mordeky's 
prime  Avannas.  Two  or  three  mor  may  be  visable  inside, 
settn  on  the  counter  or  the  chestis,  indulging  in  their  fav- 
'rit  whead,  the  rich  and  spisy  Pickwhick,  the  ripe  Manilly, 
or  the  flagrant  and  arheumatic  Qby. 

"  These  Divanns  are,  as  is  very  well  known,  the  knightly 
resott  of  the  young  Henglish  nobillaty.  It  is  ear  a  young 
Pier,  after  an  arjus  day  at  the  House  of  Commons,  solazes 
himself  with  a  glas  of  gin-and-water  (the  national  beve- 
ridge),  with  cheerful  conversation  on  the  ewents  of  the  day, 
or  with  an  armless  gaym  of  bagg3rtell  in  the  back-parlor." 

So  wrote  at  least  our  friend  Jools  to  his  newspaper,  the 
Horriflam  ;  and  of  this  back-parlor  and  baggytell  bord,  of 
this  counter,  of  this  Constantinople  Divan,  he  became  al- 
most as  reglar  a  frequenter  as  the  plaster  of  Parish  Turk 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


75 


who  sits  smoking  a  hookey  between  the  two  blue  coffee 
cups  in  the  winder. 

I  have  oftin,  smokin  my  own  shroot  in  silents  in  a  corner 
of  the  Diwann,  listened  to  Jools  and  his  friends  inwaying 
aginst  Hinglandj  and  boastin  of  their  own  immortial  coun- 
try. How  they  did  go  on  about  Wellintun,  and  what  an 
arty  contamp  they  ad  for  him ! — how  they  used  to  prove 
that  France  was  the  Lights  the  Scenter-pint,  the  Igsample 
and  Hadmiration  of  the  whole  world.  And  though  I 
scarcely  take  a  French  paper  nowadays  (I  lived  in  early 
days  as  groom  in  a  French  famly  three  years,  and  there- 
fore knows  the  languidg),  though,  I  say,  you  can't  take  up 
Jools's  paper,  the  Orriflam^  without  readin  that  a  minister 
has  committed  bribery  and  perjury,  or  that  a  littery  man 
has  committed  perjury  and  murder,  or  that  a  Duke  has 
stabbed  his  wife  in  fifty  places,  or  some  story  equally  hor- 
rable;  yet  for  all  that  it's  admiral  to  see  how  the  French 
gents  will  swagger, — how  they  will  be  the  scentersof  civili- 
sation— how  they  will  be  the  Igsamples  of  Europ,  and 
nothink  shall  prevent  'em — knowing  they  will  have  it,  I 
say  I  listen,  smokin  my  pip  in  silence.    But  to  our  tail. 

Eeglar  every  evening  there  came  to  the  Constantanople  a 
youDg  gent  etired  in  the  igth  of  fashn ;  and  indeed  present- 
ing by  the  cleanlyness  of  his  appearants  and  linning  (which 
was  generally  a  pink  or  blew  shurt,  with  a  cricketer  or  a 
dansuse  pattern)  rayther  a  contrast  to  the  dinjy  and  wist- 
kcard  sosiaty  of  the  Diwann.  As  for  wiskars,  this  young 
mann  had  none  beyond  a  little  yallow  tought  to  his  chin, 
which  you  woodn  notas,  only  he  was  always  pulling  at  it. 
His  statue  was  diminnative,  but  his  coschume  supubb,  for 
he  had  the  tippiest  Jane  boots,  the  ivory headest  canes,  the 
most  gawjus  scarlick  J onville  ties,  and  the  most  Scotch- 
plaidest  trowseys,  of  any  customer  of  that  establishment. 
He  was  univusaly  called  Milord. 

"  Qui  est  ce  jeune  seigneur  ?  Who  is  this  young  hurl,  who 
comes  knightly  to  the  Constantanople,  who  is  so  proddigl 
of  his  gold,  (for  indeed  the  young  gent  would  frequinly 
propoase  gininwater  to  the  company),  and  who  drinks  so 


76 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


much,  gin? asked  Munseer  Cliacabac  of  a  friend  from  the 
Hotel  de  TAil. 

^^His  name  is  Lord  Yardham/'  answered  that  friend. 
"He  never  comes  here  but  at  night — and  why?  " 

66  Y?     igsclaimed  Jools,  istonisht. 

"  Why?  because  he  is  engaygd  all  day — and  do  you 
know  where  he  is  engaygd  all  day?  " 
"Where?"  asked  Jools. 

"At  the  Foring  Office — 7iotv  do  you  beginn  to  under- 
stand?"— Jools  trembled. 

"He  speaks  of  his  uncle,  the  head  of  that  office. — Who 
is  the  head  of  that  offis? — Palmerston." 

"  The  nephew  of  Palmerston !  "  said  J ools,  almost  in  a 
fit. 

"Lor  Yardham  pretends  not  to  speak  French,"  the  other 
went  on.  "  He  pretends  he  can  only  say  wee  and  commong 
porty  voo.  Shallow  humbug! — I  have  marked  him  during 
our  conversations.  When  we  have  spoken  of  the  glory  of 
France  among  the  nations,  I  have  seen  his  eye  kindle,  and 
his  perfidious  lip  curl  with  rage.  When  they  have  dis- 
cussed before  him,  the  Imprudents !  the  afPairs  of  Europe, 
and  Raggybritchovich  has  shown  us  the  next  Circassian 
Campaign,  or  Sapousne  has  laid  bare  the  plan  of  the  Cala- 
brian  patriots  for  the  next  insurrection,  I  have  marked  this 
stranger — this  Lor  Yardham.  He  smokes,  'tis  to  conceal 
his  countenance ;  he  drinks  gin,  'tis  to  hide  his  face  in  the 
goblet. — And  be  sure,  he  carries  every  word  of  our  conver- 
sation to  the  perfidious  Palmerston,  his  uncle." 

"I  will  beard  him  in  his  den,"  thought  Jools.  "I  will 
meet  him  corps- a- corps — the  tyrant  of  Europe  shall  suffer 
through  his  nephew,  and  I  will  shoot  him  as  dead  as  Dujar- 
rier. " 

When  Lor  Yardham  came  to  the  Constantinople  that 
night,  Jools  i'd  him  savidgely  f rom  edd  to  foot,  while  Lord 
Yardham  replied  the  same.  It  wasn't  much  for  either  to 
do — neyther  being  more  than  4  foot  ten  hi — Jools  was  a 
grannydear  in  his  company  of  the  Nashnal  Gard,  and  was 
as  brayv  as  a  lion. 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


77 


Ah,  r Anglete7're,  V Angleterre,  tu  nous  doisune  revanche 
said  Jooles,  crossing  his  arms  aud  grinding  his  teeth  at 
Lord  Yardham. 

"Wee/'  said  Lord  Yardham;  "wee." 
Delenda  est  Carthago  !     howled  out  Jools. 

"  0,  wee,^^  said  the  Erl  of  Yardham,  and  at  the  same  mo- 
mint  his  glas  of  ginawater  coming  in,  he  took  a  drink,  say- 
ing, "  A  voter  santy^  Munseer :  and  then  he  offered  it  like 
a  man  of  fashn  to  Jools. 

A  light  broak  on  Jools' s  mind  as  he  igsepted  the  re- 
freshmint.  "  Sapoase,'' he  said,  "instead  of  slaughtering 
this  nephew  of  the  infamous  Palmerston,  I  extract  his 
secrets  from  him ;  suppose  I  pump  him — suppose  I  unveil 
his  schemes  and  send  them  to  my  paper?  La  France  may 
hear  the  name  of  Jools  de  Chacabac,  and  the  star  of  honour 
may  glitter  on  my  bosom." 

So,  axepting  Lord  Yardham' s  cortasy,  he  returned  it  by 
ordering  another  glass  of  gin  at  his  own  expense,  and  they 
both  drank  it  on  the  counter,  where  Jools  talked  of  the 
affaers  of  Europ  all  night.  To  everything  he  said,  the  Earl 
of  Yardham  answered  "  IVeCj  wee  ;  "  except  at  the  end  of 
the  evening,  when  he  squeeged  his  &  and  said  Bong 
swore, " 

"  There's  nothing  like  goin  amongst  'em  to  equire  the 
reel  pronounciation,"  his  Lordship  said,  as  he  let  himself 
into  his  lodgings  with  his  latch-key.  "  That  was  a  very 
eloquent  young  gent  at  the  Constantinople,  and  I'll  patro- 
nise him." 

"  Ahj  perfide,  je  te  demasquerai !  "  Jools  remarked  to 
himself  as  he  went  to  bed  in  his  Hotel  de  I'Ail.  And  they 
met  the  next  night,  and  from  that  heavning  the  young  men 
were  continyonally  together. 

Well,  one  day  as  they  were  walking  in  the  Quadrant, 
Jools  talking,  and  Lord  Yardham  saying  "Wee,  Avee," 

they  were  struck  all  of  a  heap  by  seeing   But  my 

paper  is  igshosted,  and  I  must  dixcribe  what  they  sor  in 
the  nex  number. 


78  NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


CHAPTER  in. 

THE  CASTLE  OF  THE  ISLAND  OF  TOGO. 

The  travler  wlio  pesews  his  dalitefle  coarse  through  the 
fair  rellum  of  Franse,  (as  a  great  romantic  landskippist  and 
neamsack  of  mind  would  say)  never  chaumed  his  i's  with  a 
site  more  lovely,  or  vu'd  a  pallis  more  magniffiznt  than 
that  which  was  the  buthplace  of  the  Eroing  of  this  Trew 
Tale.  Phansy  a  country  through  whose  werdant  planes 
the  selvery  Garonne  wines,  like — like  a  benevvolent  sar- 
pent.  In  its  plasid  busum  antient  cassles,  picturask  wil- 
lidges,  and  waving  woods  are  reflected.  Purple  hills, 
crownd  with  inteak  ruings;  rivvilets  babbling  through 
gentle  greenwoods;  wight  farm  ouses,  hevvy  with  hover- 
anging  vines,  and  from  which  the  appy  and  peaseful  oku- 
pier  can  cast  his  glans  over  goolden  waving  cornfealds,  and 
M.  Herald  meddows  in  which  the  lazy  cattle  are  graysinn; 
while  the  sheppard,  tending  his  snoughy  flox,  wiles  away 
the  leisure  mominx  on  his  loot — these  hoffer  but  a  phaint 
pictur  of  the  rurial  felissaty  in  the  midst  of  widge  Crino- 
line and  Hesteria  de  Viddlers  were  bawn. 

Their  Par,  the  Marcus  de  Viddlers,  Shavilear  of  the 
Legend  of  Honor  and  of  the  Lion  of  Bulgum,  the  Golden 
Elease,  Grand  Cross  of  the  Efiant  and  Castle,  and  of  the 
Catinbagpipes  of  Hostria,  Grand  Chamberleng  of  the 
Crownd,  and  Major-Genaril  of  Hoss-Mareens,  &c.,  &c., 
&c., — is  the  twenty-foth  or  fith  Marquis  that  has  bawn  the 
Tittle ;  is  disended  lenyally  from  King  Pipping,  and  has 
almost  as  antient  a  paddygree  as  any  which  the  Ollywell 
Street  f rends  of  the  Member  of  Buckinumsheer  can  supply. 

His  Marchyniss,  the  lovely  &  ecomplisht  Emily  de  St. 
Cornichon,  quitted  this  mortial  spear  very  soon  after  she 
had  presented  her  Lord  with  the  two  little  dawling  Cherry- 
bins  above  dixcribed,  in  whomb,  after  the  loss  of  that  angle 
his  wife,  the  disconslit  widderer  found  his  only  jy  on  huth. 
In  all  his  emusements  they  ecampanied  himj  their  edjaca- 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


79 


tion  was  his  sole  bisniss;  he  atcheaved  it  with  the  assist- 
ance of  the  ugliest  and  most  lernid  masters,  and  the  most 
hidjus  and  egsimplary  governices  which  money  could  pro- 
cure. R,  how  must  his  peturnle  art  have  bet,  as  these 
Budds,  which  he  had  nurrisht,  bust  into  buty,  and  twined 
in  blooming  flagrance  round  his  pirentile  Busm ! 

The  villidges  all  round  his  hancestral  Alls  blessed  the 
Marcus  and  his  lovely  hoffsprig.  Not  one  villidge  in  their 
naybrood  but  was  edawned  by  their  elygint  benifisms,  and 
where  the  inhabitnts  weren't  rendered  appy.  It  was  a 
pattern  pheasantry.  All  the  old  men  in  the  districk  were 
wertuous  and  tockative,  ad  red  stockins,  and  i-eeled  drab 
shoes,  and  beautiful  snowy  air.  All  the  old  women  had 
peaked  ats,  and  crookid  cains,  and  chince  gowns  tucked 
into  the  pockits  of  their  quiltid  petticoats;  they  sat  in 
pictarask  porches,  pretendin  to  spinn,  while  the  lads  and 
lassis  of  the  villidges  danst  under  the  heliums.  O,  'tis  a 
noble  sight  to  whitniss  that  of  an  appy  pheasantry !  Not 
one  of  those  rustic  wassals  of  the  Ouse  of  Widdlers,  but 
ad  his  hair  curled  and  his  shirt  sleaves  tied  up  with  pink 
ribbing  as  he  led  to  the  macy  dance  some  appy  country  gal, 
with  a  black  velvit  boddice,  and  a  redd  or  yaller  petticoat, 
a  hormylu  cross  on  her  neck,  and  a  silver  harrow  in  her 
air! 

\Vlien  the  Marcus  and  ther  young  ladies  came  to  the  vil- 
lidge it  would  have  done  the  i's  of  the  fianthropist  good  to 
see  how  all  reseaved  'em!  The  little  children  scattered 
calico  flowers  on  their  path,  the  snowy-aired  old  men  with 
red  faces  and  rinkles  took  off  their  brown-paper  ats  to 
slewt  the  noble  Marcus.  Young  and  old  led  them  to  a 
woodn  bank  painted  to  look  like  a  bower  of  roses,  and 
when  they  were  sett  down  danst  ballys  before  them.  0 
Hwas  a  noble  site  to  see  the  Marcus  too,  smilin  ellygint 
with  fethers  in  his  edd  and  all  his  stars  on,  and  the  young 
Marchynisses  with  their  ploomes,  and  trains,  and  little 
coronicks ! 

They  lived  in  a  tremenjus  splendor  at  home  in  their 
pyturnle  alls,  and  had  no  end  of  pallises,  willers,  and  town 


80  NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 

and  country  resadences,  but  their  fayvorit  resadence  was 
called  the  Castle  of  the  Island  of  Fogo. 

Add  I  the  penn  of  the  hawther  of  a  Codlinsgby  himself, 
I  coodnt  dixcribe  the  gawjusness  of  their  aboad.  They  add 
twenty-four  footmen  in  livery,  besides  a  boy  in  codroys 
for  the  knives  and  shoes.  They  had  nine  meels  aday — 
Shampayne  and  pineapples  were  served  to  each  of  the  young 
ladies  in  bed  before  they  got  up.  Was  it  Prawns,  Sherry- 
cobblers,  lobster-salids,  or  maids  of  honour,  they  had  but 
to  ring  the  bell  and  call  for  what  they  chose.  They  had 
two  new  dresses  every  day — one  to  ride  out  in  the  open 
carriage,  and  another  to  appear  in  the  gardens  of  the  Castle 
of  the  Island  of  Fogo,  which  were  illuminated  every  night 
like  Voxhall.  The  young  noblemen  of  France  were  there 
ready  to  dance  with  them,  and  festif  suppers  concluded 
the  jawyus  night. 

Thus  they  lived  in  ellygant  ratirement  until  Misfortune 
bust  upon  this  appy  fammaly.  Etached  to  his  Princes 
and  abommanating  the  ojous  Lewyphlip,  the  Marcus  was 
conspiring  for  the  benefick  of  the  helder  branch  of  the 
Borebones — and  what  was  the  consquince? — One  night  a 
fleat  presented  itself  round  the  Castle  of  the  Island  of 
Fogo — and  skewering  only  a  couple  of  chests  of  jewils,  the 
Marcus  and  the  two  young  ladies  in  disgyise,  fled  from  that 
island  of  bliss.  And  whither  fled  they? — To  England! — 
England  the  ome  of  the  brave,  the  refuge  of  the  world, 
where  the  pore  slave  never  setts  his  foot,  but  he  is  free ! 

Such  was  the  ramantic  tail  which  was  told  to  2  friends 
of  ours  by  the  Marcus  de  Viddlers  himself,  whose  daugh- 
»ters,  walking  with  their  page  from  Ungerford  Market 
(where  they  had  been  to  purchis  a  paper  of  srimps  for  the 
umble  supper  of  their  noble  father),  Yardham  and  his 
equaintnce,  Munseer  Jools,  had  remarked  and  admired. 

But  how  had  those  two  young  Erows  become  equainted 
with  the  noble  Marcus? — That  is  a  mistry  we  must  elucy- 
date  in  a  futur  voUam. 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


81 


THE  STARS  AND  STRIPES. 

By  the  Author  of  "The  Last  of  the  Mulligans," 

"Pilot/'  etc. 

The  King  of  France  was  walking  on  the  terrace  of  Ver- 
sailles; the  fairest,  not  only  of  Queens,  but  of  women, 
hung  fondly  on  the  Eoyal  arm;  while  the  children  of 
France  were  indulging  in  their  infantile  hilarity  in  the 
alleys  of  the  magnificent  garden  of  Le  Notre  (from  which 
ISTiblo's  garden  has  been  copied,  in  our  own  Empire  city  of 
Xew  York),  and  playing  at  leap-frog  with  their  uncle, 
the  Count  of  Provence ;  gaudy  courtiers,  emblazoned  with 
orders,  glittered  in  the  groves,  and  murmured  frivolous 
talk  in  the  ears  of  high-bred  beauty. 

"Marie,  my  beloved,"  said  the  ruler  of  France,  taking 
out  his  watch,  "  'tis  time  that  the  Minister  of  America 
should  be  here." 

"Your  Majesty  should  know  the  time,"  replied  Marie 
Antoinette,  archly,  and  in  an  Austrian  accent;  "is  not  my 
Royal  Louis  the  first  watchmaker  in  his  empire?  " 

The  King  cast  a  pleased  glance  at  his  repeater,  and 
kissed  with  courtly  grace  the  fair  hand  of  her  who  had 
made  him  the  compliment. 

"My  Lord  Bishop  of  Autun,"  said  he  to  Monsieur  de 
Talleyrand  Perigord,  who  followed  the  royal  pair,  in  his 
quality  of  Arch-Chamberlain  of  the  Empire,  "  I  pray  you 
look  through  the  gardens,  and  tell  His  Excellency  Doctor 
Franklin  that  the  King  waits."  The  Bishop  ran  off,  with 
more  than  youthful  agility,  to  seek  the  United  States  Min- 
ister. "These  Eepublicans,"  he  added,  confidentially,  and 
with  something  of  a  supercilious  look,  "  are  but  rude  cour- 
tiers, methinks." 

"Nay,"  interposed  the  lovely  Antoinette,  "rude  cour- 
tiers, Sire,  they  may  be ;  but  the  world  boasts  not  of  more 


82  NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 

accomplished  gentlemen.  I  have  seen  no  grandee  of  Ver- 
sailles that  has  the  noble  bearing  of  this  American  Envoy 
and  his  suite.  They  have  the  refinement  of  the  Old  World, 
with  all  the  simple  elegance  of  the  'New.  Though  they 
have  perfect  dignity  of  manner,  they  have  an  engaging 
modesty  which  I  have  never  seen  equalled  by  the  best  of 
the  proud  English  nobles  with  whom  they  wage  war.  I 
am  told  they  speak  their  very  language  with  a  grace  which 
the  haughty  Islanders  who  oppress  them  never  attained. 
They  are  independent,  yet  never  insolent;  elegant,  yet 
always  respectful;  and  brave,  but  not  in  the  least  boast- 
ful." 

"What!  savages  and  all,  Marie?"  exclaimed  Louis, 
laughing  and  chucking  the  lovely  Queen  playfully  under 
the  Eoyal  chin.  "But  here  comes  Doctor  Franklin,  and 
your  friend  the  Cacique  with  him."  In  fact,  as  the  mon- 
arch spoke,  the  Minister  of  the  United  States  made  his  ap- 
pearance, followed  by  a  gigantic  warrior  in  the  garb  of  his 
native  woods. 

Knowing  his  place  as  Minister  of  a  sovereign  State 
(yielding  even  then  in  dignity  to  none,  as  it  surpasses  all 
now  in  dignity,  in  valour,  in  honesty,  in  strength,  and 
civilisation),  the  Doctor  nodded  to  the  Queen  of  France, 
but  kept  his  hat  on  as  he  faced  the  French  monarch,  and 
did  not  cease  whittling  the  cane  he  carried  in  his  hand. 

"  I  was  waiting  for  you,  Sir,"  the  king  said  peevishly,  in 
spite  of  the  alarmed  pressure  which  the  Queen  gave  his 
royal  arm. 

"The  business  of  the  Eepublic,  Sire,  must  take  prece- 
dence even  of  your  Majesty's  wishes,"  replied  Dr.  Frank- 
lin. "When  I  was  a  poor  printer's  boy,  and  ran  errands, 
no  lad  could  be  more  punctual  than  poor  Ben  Franklin; 
but  all  other  things  must  yield  to  the  service  of  the  United 
States  of  North  America.  I  have  done.  What  would 
you.  Sire?  "  and  the  intrepid  Eepublican  eyed  the  monarch 
with  a  serene  and  easy  dignity  which  made  the  descendant 
of  St.  Louis  feel  ill  at  ease. 

"  I  wished  to — to  say  farewell  to  Tatua  before  his  de- 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS.  83 


parture/^  said  Louis  XVL,  looking  rather  awkward.  "Ap- 
proach, Tatua.''  And  the  gigantic  Indian  strode  up,  and 
stood  undaunted  before  the  first  magistrate  of  the  French 
nation ;  again  the  feeble  monarch  quailed  before  the  terri- 
ble simplicity  of  the  glance  of  the  denizen  of  the  primaeval 
forests. 

The  redoubted  Chief  of  the  Nose-ring  Indians  was  deco- 
rated in  his  war-paint,  and  in  his  top-knot  was  a  peacock's 
feather,  which  had  been  given  him  out  of  the  head-dress 
of  the  beautiful  Princess  of  Lamballe.  His  nose,  from 
which  hung  the  ornament  from  which  his  ferocious  tribe 
took  its  designation,  was  painted  a  light-blue,  a  circle  of 
green  and  orange  was  drawn  round  each  eye,  while  serpen- 
tine stripes  of  black,  white,  and  vermilion  alternately  were 
smeared  on  his  forehead,  and  descended  over  his  cheek- 
bones to  his  chin.  His  manly  chest  was  similarly  tattooed 
and  painted,  and  round  his  brawny  neck  and  arms  hung 
innumerable  bracelets  and  necklaces  of  human  teeth,  ex- 
tracted (one  only  from  each  skull)  from  the  jaws  of  those 
who  had  fallen  by  the  terrible  tomahawk  at  his  girdle. 
His  moccasins,  and  his  blanket,  which  was  draped  on  his 
arm,  and  fell  in  picturesque  folds  to  his  feet,  were  fringed 
with  tufts  of  hair — the  black,  the  grey,  the  auburn,  the 
golden  ringlet  of  beauty,  the  red  lock  from  the  forehead  of 
the  Scottish  or  the  Northern  soldier,  the  snowy  tress  of 
extreme  old  age,  the  flaxen  down  of  infancy — all  were 
there,  dreadful  reminiscences  of  the  chief's  triumphs  in 
war  The  warrior  leaned  on  his  enormous  rifle,  and  faced 
the  King. 

"And  it  was  with  that  carabine  that  you  shot  Wolfe 
in  '57?''  said  Louis,  eyeing  the  warrior  and  his  weapon. 
"'Tis  a  clumsy  lock,  and  methinks  I  could  mend  it,"  he 
added  mentally. 

"The  Chief  of  the  French  pale-faces  speaks  truth," 
Tatua  said  "  Tatua  was  a  boy  when  he  went  first  on  the 
war-path  with  Montcalm." 

"  And  shot  a  Wolfe  at  the  first  fire !  "  said  the  King. 

"  The  English  are  braves,  though  their  faces  are  white," 


84 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


replied  the  Indian.  Tatua  shot  the  raging  Wolfe  of  the 
English,  but  the  other  wolves  caused  the  foxes  to  go  to 
earth. A  smile  played  round  Dr.  Franklin's  lips,  as  he 
whittled  his  cane  with  more  vigour  than  ever. 

"  I  believe,  your  Excellency,  Tatua  has  done  good  service 
elsewhere  than  at  Quebec,'^  the  King  said,  appealing  to 
the  American  Envoy;  ^^at  Bunker's  Hill,  at  Brandy  wine, 
at  York  Island?  Now  that  Lafayette  and  my  brave  French- 
men are  among  you,  your  Excellency  need  have  no  fear  but 
that  the  war  will  finish  quickly — yes,  yes,  it  will  finish 
quickly.  They  will  teach  you  discipline,  and  the  way  to 
conquer." 

"  King  Louis  of  France, "  said  the  Envoy,  clapping  his 
hat  down  over  his  head,  and  puttmg  his  arms  akimbo,  "  we 
have  learned  that  from  the  British,  to  whom  we  are  supe- 
rior in  everything:  and  I'd  have  your  Majesty  to  know, 
that  in  the  art  of  whipping  the  world,  we  have  no  need  of 
any  French  lessons.  If  your  reglars  jines  General  Wash- 
ington, 'tis  to  larn  from  him  how  Britishers  are  licked,  for 
I'm  blest  if  yu  know  the  way  yet." 

Tatua  said,  "  Ugh,"  and  gave  a  rattle  with  the  butt  of 
his  carabine,  v/hich  made  the  timid  monarch  start;  the 
eyes  of  the  lovely  Antoinette  flashed  fire,  but  it  played 
round  the  head  of  the  dauntless  American  Envoy  harmless 
as  the  lightning  which  he  knew  how  to  conjure  away. 

The  King  fumbled  in  his  pocket,  and  pulled  out  a  Cross 
of  the  Order  of  the  Bath.  "Your  Excellency  wears  no 
honour, "  the  monarch  said ;  "  but  Tatua,  who  is  not  a  sub- 
ject, only  an  ally  of  the  United  States,  may.  Noble  Tatua, 
I  appoint  you  Knight  Companion  of  my  noble  Order  of  the 
Bath.  Wear  this  cross  upon  your  breast  in  memory  of 
Louis  of  France ;  "  and  the  King  held  out  the  decoration  to 
the  Chief. 

Up  to  that  moment  the  Chief's  countenance  had  been 
impassible.  No  look  either  of  admiration  or  dislike  had 
appeared  upon  that  grim  and  war-painted  visage.  But 
now,  as  Louis  spoke,  Tatua's  face  assumed  a  glance  of  in- 
effable scorn,  as,  bending  his  head,  he  took  the  bauble. 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS.  85 

^^I  will  give  it  to  one  of  my  squaws/^  he  said.  "The 
papooses  in  my  lodge  will  play  with  it.  Come,  Medicine, 
Tatua  will  go  and  drink  fire-water ; and,  shouldering  his 
carabine,  he  turned  his  broad  back  without  ceremony  upon 
the  monarch  and  his  train,  and  disappeared  down  one  of 
the  walks  of  the  garden.  Franklin  found  him  when  his 
own  interview  with  the  French  Chief  Magistrate  was  over, 
being  attracted  to  the  spot  where  the  Chief  was,  by  the 
crack  of  his  well-known  rifle.  He  was  laughing  in  his 
quiet  way.  He  had  shot  the  Colonel  of  the  Swiss  Guards 
through  his  cockade. 

Three  days  afterwards,  as  the  gallant  frigate,  the  Repw 
diator,  was  sailing  out  of  Brest  Harbour,  the  gigantic  form 
of  an  Indian  might  be  seen  standing  on  the  binnacle  in 
conversation  with  Commodore  Bowie,  the  commander  of 
the  noble  ship.    It  was  Tatua,  the  Chief  of  the  Nose-rings. 


Leatherlegs  and  Tom  Coxswain  did  not  accompany  Tatua 
when  he  went  to  the  Parisian  metropolis  on  a  visit  to 
the  father  of  the  French  pale -faces.  Neither  the  Legs  nor 
the  Sailor  cared  for  the  gaiety  and  the  crowd  of  cities; 
the  stout  mariner's  home  was  in  the  puttock-shrouds  of  the 
old  Repicdiator.  The  stern  and  simple  trapper  loved  the 
sound  of  the  waters  better  than  the  jargon  of  the  French 
of  the  old  country.  "  I  can  follow  the  talk  of  a  Pawnee," 
he  said,  "  or  wag  my  jaw,  if  so  be  necessity  feids  me  to 
speak,  by  a  Sioux's  council-fire;  and  I  can  patter  Canadian 
French  with  the  hunters  who  come  for  peltries  to  Nachi- 
toches  or  Thichimuchimachy ;  but  from  the  tongue  of  a 
French-woman,  with  white  flour  on  her  head,  and  war- 
paint on  her  face,  the  Lord  deliver  poor  Natty  Pumpo." 

"  Amen  and  amen !  "  said  Tom  Coxswain.  "  There  was 
a  woman  in  our  aft-scuppers  when  I  went  a-whalin  in  the 
little  Grampus — and  Lord  love  you,  Pumpo,  you  poor 
land-swab,  she  was  as  pretty  a  craft  as  ever  dowsed  a  tar- 
pauling — there  was  a  woman  on  board  the  Grampus^  who 
before  we'd  struck  our  first  fish,  or  biled  our  first  blubber, 


86 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


set  the  whole  crew  in  a  mutiny.  I  mind  me  of  her  now, 
Natty — her  eye  was  sich  a  piercer  that  you  could  see  to 
steer  by  it  in  a  Newfoundland  fog;  her  nose  stood  out  like 
the  Crrampus^s  jib-boom,  and  her  woice.  Lord  love  you,  her 
woice  sings  in  my  ears  even  now: — it  set  the  Captain 
a-quarrelin  with  the  Mate,  who  was  hanged  in  Boston  har- 
bour for  harpooninof  his  oiBEicer  in  Baffin^ s  Bay; — it  set  me 
and  Bob  Bunting  a-pouring  broadsides  into  each  other's  old 
timbers,  whereas  me  and  Bob  was  worth  all  the  women 
that  ever  shipped  a  hawser.  It  cost  me  three  years'  pay 
as  I'd  stowed  away  for  the  old  mother,  and  might  have 
cost  me  ever  so  much  more,  only  bad  luck  to  me,  she  went 
and  married  a  little  tailor  out  of  Nantucket;  and  I've  hated 
women  and  tailors  ever  since!"  As  he  spoke,  the  hardy 
tar  dashed  a  drop  of  brme  from  his  tawny  cheek,  and  once 
more  betook  himself  to  splice  the  taffrail. 

Though  the  brave  frigate  lay  off  Havre  de  Grace,  she 
was  not  idle.  The  gallant  Bowie  and  his  intrepid  crew 
made  repeated  descents  upon  the  enemy's  seaboard.  The 
coasts  of  Eutland  and  merry  Leicestershire  have  still  many 
a  legend  of  fear  to  tell ;  and  the  children  of  the  British 
fishermen  tremble  even  now  when  they  speak  of  the  terri- 
ble Repudiator,  She  was  the  first  of  the  mighty  American 
war-ships  that  have  taught  the  domineering  Briton  to  re- 
spect the  valour  of  the  Republic. 

The  novelist  ever  and  anon  finds  himself  forced  to  adopt 
the  sterner  tone  of  the  historian,  when  describing  deeds 
connected  with  his  country's  triumphs.  It  is  well  known 
that  during  the  two  months  in  which  she  lay  off  Havre, 
the  Repudiator  had  brought  more  prizes  into  that  port  than 
had  ever  before  been  seen  in  the  astonished  French  waters. 
Her  actions  with  the  Dettingen  and  the  Elector  frigates 
form  part  of  our  country's  history;  their  defence — it  may 
be  said  without  prejudice  to  national  vanity — was  worthy 
of  Britons  and  of  the  audacious  foe  they  had  to  encounter ; 
and  it  must  be  owned,  that  but  for  a  happy  fortune  which 
presided  on  that  day  over  the  destinies  of  our  country,  the 
chance  of  the  combat  might  have  been  in  favour  of  the 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


87 


British  vessels.  It  was  not  until  the  Elector  blew  up,  at  a 
quarter-past  3  p.m.,  by  a  lucky  shot  which  fell  into  her 
caboose,  and  communicated  with  the  powder-magazine, 
that  Commodore  Bowie  was  enabled  to  lay  himself  on  board 
the  Dettingen^  which  he  carried  sword  in  hand.  Even 
when  the  American  boarders  had  made  their  lodgment  on 
the  Dettingeii^s  binnacle,  it  is  possible  that  the  battle 
would  still  have  gone  against  us.  The  British  were  still 
seven  to  one ;  their  carronades,  loaded  with  marline-spikes, 
swept  the  gun-deck,  of  which  we  had  possession,  and  deci- 
mated our  little  force ;  when  a  rifle-ball  from  the  shrouds 
of  the  Repudiator  shot  Captain  Mumford  under  the  star  of 
the  Guelphic  Order,  which  he  wore,  and  the  Americans, 
with  a  shout,  rushed  up  the  companion  to  the  quarter-deck, 
upon  the  astonished  foe.  Pike  and  cutlass  did  the  rest  of 
the  bloody  work.  Kumford,  the  gigantic  first  lieutenant 
of  the  DettingeUy  was  cut  down  by  Commodore  Bowie's 
own  sword,  as  they  engaged  hand  to  hand;  and  it  was 
Tom  Coxswain  who  tore  down  the  British  flag,  after  having 
slain  the  Englishman  at  the  wheel.  Peace  be  to  the  souls 
of  the  brave!  The  combat  was  honourable  alike  to  the  vic- 
tor and  the  vanquished ;  and  it  never  can  be  said  that  an 
American  warrior  depreciated  a  gallant  foe.  The  bitter- 
ness of  defeat  was  enough  to  the  haughty  islanders  who 
had  to  suffer.  The  people  of  Heme  Bay  were  lining 
the  shore,  near  which  the  combat  took  place,  and  cruel 
must  have  been  the  pang  to  them  when  they  saw  the  Stars 
and  Stripes  rise  over  the  old  flag  of  the  Union,  and  the 
Dettingen  fall  down  the  river  in  tow  of  the  republican 
frigate. 

Another  action  Bowie  contemplated;  the  boldest  and 
most  daring  perhaps  ever  imagined  by  seaman.  It  is  this 
which  has  been  so  wrongly  described  by  European  annal- 
ists, and  of  which  the  British  until  now  have  maintained 
the  most  jealous  secrecy. 

Portsmouth  Harbour  was  badly  defended.  Our  intelli- 
gence in  that  town  and  arsenal  gave  us  precise  knowledge 
of  the  disposition  of  the  troops,  the  forts,  and  the  ships 


88 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


there ;  and  it  was  determined  to  strike  a  blow  which  should 
shake  the  British  power  in  its  centre. 

That  a  frigate  of  the  size  of  the  Bepiidiator  should  enter 
the  harbour  unnoticed,  or  could  escape  its  guns  unscathed, 
passed  the  notions  of  even  American  temerity.  But  upon 
the  memorable  26th  of  June,  1782,  the  Repitdiator  sailed 
out  of  Havre  Eoads  in  a  thick  fog,  under  cover  of  which 
she  entered  and  cast  anchor  in  Bonchurch  Bay,  in  the  Isle 
of  Wight.  To  surprise  the  Martello  Tower  and  take  the 
feeble  garrison  thereunder,  was  the  work  of  Tom  Coxswain 
and  a  few  of  his  bluejackets.  The  surprised  garrison  laid 
down  their  arms  before  him. 

It  was  midnight  before  the  boats  of  the  ship,  commanded 
by  Lieutenant  Bunker,  pulled  off  from  Bonchurch  with 
muffled  oars,  and  in  another  hour  were  off  the  Common 
Hard  of  Portsmouth,  having  passed  the  challenge  of  the 
Thetis  and  the  Amphion  frigates,  and  the  Polyanthus  brig. 

There  had  been  on  that  day  great  feasting  and  merriment 
on  board  the  Flag- ship  lying  in  the  harbour.  A  banquet 
had  been  given  in  honour  of  the  birthday  of  one  of  the 
princes  of  the  royal  line  of  the  Guelphs — the  reader  knows 
the  propensity  of  Britons  when  liquor  is  in  plenty.  All 
on  board  that  royal  ship  were  more  or  less  overcome.  The 
Flag-ship  was  plunged  in  a  death-like  and  drunken  sleep. 
The  very  officer  of  the  watch  was  intoxicated ;  he  could 
not  see  the  Repitdiator^ s  boats  as  they  shot  swiftly  through 
the  waters ;  nor  had  he  time  to  challenge  her  seamen  as 
they  swarmed  up  the  huge  sides  of  the  ship. 

At  the  next  moment  Tom  Coxswain  stood  at  the  wheel 
of  the  Royal  George — the  Briton  who  had  guarded,  a  corpse 
at  his  feet.  The  hatches  were  down.  The  ship  was  in 
possession  of  the  Repudiator'^ s  crew.  They  were  busy  in 
her  rigging,  bending  her  sails  to  carry  her  out  of  the  har- 
bour. The  well-known  heave  of  the  men  at  the  windlass, 
woke  up  Kempenfelt  in  his  state-cabin.  We  know,  or 
rather  do  not  know  the  result ;  for  who  can  tell  by  whom 
the  lower-deck  ports  of  the  brave  ship  were  opened,  and 
how  the  haughty  prisoners  below  sunk  the   ship  and 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


its  conquerors  rather  than  yield  her  as  a  prize  to  the  Ee- 
public ! 

Only  Tom  Coxswain  escaped  of  victors  and  vanquished. 
His  tale  was  told  to  his  Captain  and  to  Congress ;  but 
Washington  forbade  its  publication;  and  it  was  but  lately 
that  the  faithful  seaman  told  it  to  me,  his  grandson,  on  his 
hxmdred  and  fifteenth  birthday. 


90  A  PLAN  FOR  A  PRIZE  NOVEL,. 


A  PLAN  FOR  A  PRIZE  NOVEL. 

In  a  Letter  from  the  Eminent  Dramatist  Brown 
TO  THE  Eminent  Novelist  Snooks. 

Cafe  des  Aveugles. 

"My  dear  Snooks, 

"  I  am  on  the  look-out  here  for  materials  for  original 
comedies  such  as  those  lately  produced  at  your  theatre ; 
and  in  the  course  of  my  studies,  I  have  found  something, 
my  dear  Snooks,  which  I  think  will  suit  your  book.  You 
are  bringing,  I  see,  your  admirable  novel,  ^  The  Mysteries  of 
May  Fair,^  to  an  end — (by  the  way,  the  scene,  in  the  200th 
Number,  between  the  Duke,  his  Grandmother,  and  the 
Jesuit  Butler,  is  one  of  the  most  harrowing  and  exciting  I 
ever  read) — and,  of  course,  you  must  turn  your  real  genius 
to  some  other  channel ;  and  we  may  expect  that  your  pen 
shall  not  be  idle. 

"The  original  plan  I  have  to  propose  to  you,  then,  is 
taken  from  the  French;  just  like  the  original  dramas  above 
mentioned ;  and,  indeed,  I  found  it  in  the  law  report  of  the 
National  newspaper,  and  a  French  literary  gentleman,  M. 
Emanuel  Gonzales,  has  the  credit  of  the  invention.  He 
and  an  Advertisement  Agent  fell  out  about  a  question  of 
money,  the  affair  was  brought  before  the  Courts,  and  the 
little  plot  so  got  wind.  But  there  is  no  reason  why  you 
should  not  take  the  plot  and  _act  on  it  yourself.  You  are 
a  known  man ;  the  public  relishes  your  works ;  anything 
bearing  the  name  of  Snooks  is  eagerly  read  by  the  masses ; 
and  though  Messrs.  Hookey,  of  Holywell  Street,  pay  you 
handsomely,  I  make  no  doubt  you  would  like  to  be  re- 
warded at  a  still  higher  figure. 

"  Unless  he  writes  with  a  purpose,  you  know,  a  novelist 
in  our  days  is  good  for  nothing.  This  one  writes  with  a 
Socialist  purpose ;  that  with  a  Conservative  purpose ;  this 


A  PLAN  FOR  A  PRIZE  NOVEL. 


91 


author  or  authoress  with  the  most  delicate  skill  insinuates 
Catholicism  into  you,  and  you  find  yourself  all  but  a  Papist 
in  the  third  volume :  another  doctors  you  with  Low  Church 
remedies  to  work  inwardly  upon  you,  and  which  you  swal- 
low down  unsuspiciously,  as  children  do  calomel  in  jelly. 
Fiction  advocates  all  sorts  of  truths  and  causes — doesn't 
the  delightful  bard  of  the  Minories  find  Moses  in  every- 
thing? M.  Gonzales's  plan,  and  the  one  which  I  recom- 
mend to  my  dear  Snooks,  simply  was  to  write  an  advertise- 
ment novel.  Look  over  the  Times  or  the  Directory^  walk 
down  Regent  Street  or  Fleet  Street  any  day — see  what 
houses  advertise  most,  and  put  yourself  into  communication 
with  their  proprietors.  With  your  rings,  your  chains,  your 
studs,  and  the  tip  on  your  chin,  I  don't  know  any  greater 
swell  than  Bob  Snooks.  Walk  into  the  shops,  I  say,  ask 
for  the  principal,  and  introduce  yourself,  saying — '  I  am 
the  great  Snooks ;  I  am  the  author  of  "  The  Mysteries  of  May 
Fair;"  my  weekly  sale  is  281,000;  I  am  about  to' produce 
a  new  work  called  "  The  Palace  of  Pimlico,  or  the  Curse  of 
the  Court,"  describing  and  lashing  fearlessly  the  vices  of 
the  aristocracy — this  book  will  have  the  sale  of  at  least 
530,000;  it  will  be  on  every  table;  in  the  boudoir  of  the 
pampered  Duke,  as  in  the  chamber  of  the  honest  artisan. 
The  myriads  of  foreigners  who  are  coming  to  London,  and 
are  anxious  to  know  about  our  national  manners,  will  pur- 
chase my  book,  and  carry  it  to  their  distant  homes.  So, 
Mr.  Taylor,  or  Mr.  Haberdasher,  or  Mr.  Jeweller — how 
much  will  you  stand  if  I  recommend  you  in  my  forthcom- 
ing novel?  '  You  may  make  a  noble  income  in  this  way, 
Snooks. 

"  For  instance,  suppose  it  is  an  upholsterer.  What  more 
easy,  what  more  delightful,  than  the  description  of  uphol- 
stery?   As  thus : — 

"  Lady  Emily  was  reclining  on  one  of  Down  and  Eider's 
voluptuous  ottomans,  the  only  couch  on  which  Belgravian 
beauty  now  reposes,  when  Lord  Bathershins  entered,  step- 
ping noiselessly  over  one  of  Tomkins's  elastic  Axminster 
carpets.    '  Good  heavens,  my  lord ! '  she  said — and  the 


92 


A  PLAN  FOR  A  PRIZE  NOVEL. 


lovely  creature  fainted.  The  earl  rushed  to  the  mantel- 
piece, where  he  saw  a  flacon  of  Otto's  eau-de-Cologne,  and, 
etc. 

"  Or  say  it's  a  cheap  furniture-shop,  and  it  may  be  brought 
in  just  as  easily.    As  thus : — 

We  are  poor,  Eliza,'  said  Harry  Hardhand,  looking 
affectionately  at  his  wife, '  but  we  have  enough,  love,  have 
we  not,  for  our  humble  wants?  The  rich  and  luxurious 
may  go  to  Dillow's  or  Gobiggin's,  but  we  can  get  our  rooms 
comfortably  furnished  at  Timmonson's  for  £20.'  And 
putting  on  her  bonnet,  and  hanging  affectionately  on  her 
husband,  the  stoker's  pretty  bride  tripped  gaily  to  the 
well-known  mart,  where  Timmonson,  with  his  usual  affabil- 
ity, was  ready  to  receive  them. 

"  Then  you  might  have  a  touch  at  the  wine  merchant  and 
purveyor.  '  Where  do  you  get  this  delicious  claret,  on  pate 
de  foie  gras,  or  what  you  please?  '  said  Count  Blagowski  to 
the  gay  young  Sir  Horace  Swellmore.  The  voluptuous 
Bart,  answered — at  So-and-So's,  or  So-and-So's,  The  an- 
swer is  obvious.  You  may  furnish  your  cellar  or  your 
larder  in  this  way.  Begad,  Snooks !  I  lick  my  lips  at  the 
very  idea! 

"Then,  as  to  tailors,  milliners,  bootmakers,  etc.,  how 
easy  to  get  a  word  for  them!  Amramson,  the  tailor, 
waited  upon  Lord  Paddington  with  an  assortment  of  his 
unrivalled  waistcoats,  or  clad  in  that  simple  but  aristocrat- 
ic style,  of  which  Schneider  alone  has  the  secret.  Parvy 
Newcome  really  looked  like  a  gentleman,  and  though  cor- 
pulent and  crooked,  Schneider  had  managed  to  give  him, 
etc.  Don't  you  see  what  a  stroke  of  business  you  might 
do  in  this  way? 

"  The  shoemaker.  Lady  Fanny  flew,  rather  than  danced, 
across  the  ball-room;  only  a  Sylphide,  or  Taglioni,  or  a 
lady  chausseed  by  Chevillet  of  Bond  Street,  could  move  in 
that  fairy  way ;  and  

"  The  hairdresser.  '  Count  Barbarossa  is  seventy  years 
of  age,'  said  the  Earl.  '  I  remember  him  at  the  Congress 
of  Vienna,  and  he  has  not  a  single  grey  hair.'  Wiggins 


A  PLAN  FOR  A  PRIZE  NOVEL. 


93 


laughed.  ^  My  good  Lord  Baldock/  said  the  old  wag,  '  I 
saw  Barbarossa's  hair  coming  out  of  Ducroissant's  shop, 
and  under  his  valet's  arm — ho!  ho!  ho!' — and  the  two 
hon-vivans  chuckled  as  the  Count  passed  by,  talking  with, 
etc.  etc. 

"  The  gunmaker.  The  antagonists  faced  each  other ;  and 
undismayed  before  his  gigantic  enemy  Kilconnel  raised  his 
pistol.  It  was  one  of  Clicker's  manufacture,  and  Sir  Mar- 
maduke  knew  he  could  trust  the  maker  and  the  weapon. 
'  One,  two,  three,'  cried  O'Tool,  and  the  two  pistols  went 
off  at  that  instant,  and  uttering  a  terrific  curse,  the  Life 
Guardsman,  etc. — a  sentence  of  this  nature  from  your  pen, 
my  dear  Snooks,  would,  I  should  think,  bring  a  case  of 
pistols  and  a  double-barrelled  gun  to  your  lodgings,  and, 
though  heaven  forbid  you  should  use  such  weapons,  you 
might  sell  them,  3^ou  know,  and  we  could  make  merry  with 
the  proceeds. 

"  If  my  hint  is  of  any  use  to  you,  it  is  quite  at  your  ser- 
vice, dear  Snooks ;  and  should  anything  come  of  it,  I  hope 
you  will  remember  your  friend." 


THE  DIARY  AND  LETTERS  OF  C.  JEAMES 
DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


5— Vol.  ig 


THE  DIARY  AND  LETTERS  OF  C.  JEAMES 
DE  LA  PLOCHE. 


A  LUCKY  SPECULATOK. 

"  Considerable  sensation  has  been  excited  in  the  upper 
and  lower  circles  in  the  West  End,  by  a  startling  piece  of 
good  fortune  which  has  befallen  James  Plush,  Esq.,  lately 
footman  in  a  respected  family  in  Berkeley  Square. 

"One  day  last  week,  Mr.  James  waited  upon  his  master, 
who  is  a  banker  in  the  City ;  and  after  a  little  blushing  and 
hesitation,  said  he  had  saved  a  little  money  in  service,  was 
anxious  to  retire,  and  to  invest  his  savings  to  advantage. 

"  His  master  (we  believe  we  may  mention,  without  offend- 
ing delicacy,  the  well-known  name  of  Sir  George  Flimsy, 
of  the  house  of  Flimsy,  Diddler,  and  Flash)  smilingly 
asked  Mr.  James  what  was  the  amount  of  his  savings, 
wondering  considerably  how,  out  of  an  income  of  thirty 
guineas — the  main  part  of  which  he  spent  on  bouquets, 
silk  stockings,  and  perfumery — Mr,  Plush  could  have  man- 
aged to  lay  by  anything. 

"  Mr.  Plush,  with  some  hesitation,  said  he  had  been  specu^ 
lating  in  railroads^  and  stated  his  winnings  to  have  been 
thirty  thousand  pounds.  He  had  commenced  his  specula- 
tions with  twenty,  borrowed  from  a  fellow-servant.  He 
had  dated  his  letters  from  the  house  in  Berkeley  Square, 
and  humbly  begged  pardon  of  his  master  for  not  having  in- 
structed the  Eailway  Secretaries  who  answered  his  applica- 
tions to  apply  at  the  area-bell. 

"  Sir  George,  who  was  at  breakfast,  instantly  rose,  and 
shook  Mr.  P.  by  the  hand;  Lady  Flimsy  begged  him  to  be 


98         DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


seated,  and  partake  of  the  breakfast  which  he  had  laid  on 
the  table;  and  has  subsequently  invited  him  to  her  grand 
dejeuner  at  Eichmond,  where  it  was  observed  that  Miss 
Emily  Flimsy,  her  beautiful  and  accomplished  seventh 
daughter,  paid  the  lucky  gentleman  marked  attention. 

"  We  hear  it  stated  that  Mr.  P.  is  of  a  very  ancient  fam- 
ily (Hugo  de  la  Pluche  came  over  with  the  Conqueror) ; 
and  the  new  Brougham  which  he  has  started,  bears  the 
ancient  coat  of  his  race. 

"  He  has  taken  apartments  in  the  Albany,  and  is  a  direc- 
tor of  thirty-three  railroads.  He  purposes  to  stand  for 
Parliament  at  the  next  general  election  on  decidedly  con- 
servative principles,  which  have  always  been  the  politics  of 
his  family. 

^^Eeport  says  that,  even  in  his  humble  capacity.  Miss 
Emily  Flimsy  had  remarked  his  high  demeanour.  Well, 
'  none  but  the  brave,'  say  we,  ^  deserve  the  fair.'  " — Morning 
Paper, 

This  announcement  will  explain  the  following  lines, 
which  have  been  put  into  our  box  *  with  a  West-End  post- 
mark. If,  as  we  believe,  they  are  written  by  the  young 
woman  from  whom  the  Millionaire  borrowed  the  sum  on 
which  he  raised  his  fortune,  what  heart  will  not  melt  with 
sympathy  at  her  tale,  and  pity  the  sorrows  which  she  ex- 
presses in  such  artless  language? 

If  it  be  not  too  late ;  if  wealth  have  not  rendered  its  pos- 
sessor callous ;  if  poor  Maryanne  he  still  alive  ;  we  trust, 
we  trust,  Mr.  Plush  will  do  her  justice. 

"JEAMES  OF  BUCKLEY  SQUAEE. 
"A  Heligy. 

"  Come  all  ye  gents  vot  cleans  the  plate, 
Come  all  ye  ladies '-maids  so  fair — 
Vile  I  a  story  vil  relate 
Of  cruel  Jeames  of  Buckley  Square. 

*  [The  letter-box  of  Pumh,  in  the  columns  of  which  periodical  the 
Diary  "  and  "  Letters  "  appeared.] 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


A  tighter  lad,  it  is  confest, 
Neer  valked  vith  powder  in  his  air, 

Or  vore  a  nosegay  in  his  breast, 
Than  andsum  Jeames  of  Buckley  Square. 

O  Evns !  it  vas  the  best  of  sights, 

Behind  his  Master's  coach  and  pair. 
To  see  our  Jeames  in  red  plush  tights, 

A  driving  hoff  from  Buckley  Square. 
He  vel  became  his  hagwiletts, 

He  cocked  his  at  with  such  a  hair ; 
His  calves  and  viskers  ms  such  pets, 

That  hall  loved  Jeames  of  Buckley  Square. 

**  He  pleased  the  hup-stairs  folks  as  veil, 

And  O !  I  vithered  vith  despair, 
Misses  wuld  ring  the  parler  bell. 

And  call  up  Jeames  in  Buckley  Square. 
Both  beer  and  sperrits  he  abhord, 

(Sperrits  and  beer  I  can't  a  bear). 
You  would  have  thought  he  vas  a  lord 

Down  in  our  All  in  Buckley  Square. 

"Last  year,  he  visper'd,  '  Mary  Hann, 

Ven  I've  an  under'd  pound  to  spare, 
To  take  a  public  is  my  plan, 

And  leave  this  hojous  Buckley  Square.' 
O  how  my  gentle  heart  did  bound, 

To  think  that  I  his  name  should  bear, 
*Dear  Jeames,'  says  I,  '  I've  twenty  pound/ 

And  gev  them  him  in  Buckley  Square. 

Our  master  vas  a  City  gent, 

His  name's  in  railroads  everywhere; 
And  lord,  vot  lots  of  letters  vent 

Betwigst  his  brokers  and  Buckley  Square! 
My  Jeames  it  was  the  letters  took, 

And  read  'em  all,  (I  think  it's  fair), 
And  took  a  leaf  from  Master's  book, 

As  hotJiers  do  in  Buckley  Square. 

**  Encouraged  with  my  twenty  pound, 
Of  which  poor  1  was  unaware. 
He  wrote  the  Companies  all  round, 
And  signed  hisself  from  Buckley  Square. 


100       DIAKY  OP  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 

And  how  John  Porter  used  to  grin, 

As  day  by  day,  share  after  share, 
Came  railvay  letters  pouring  in, 

'  J.  Plush,  Esquire,  in  Buckley  Square.  * 

"Our  servants'  All  was  in  a  rage- 
Scrip,  stock,  curves,  gradients,  bull  and  bear, 

Vith  butler,  coachman,  groom  and  page, 
Vas  all  the  talk  in  Buckley  Square. 

But  O !  imagine  vat  I  felt 
Last  Yensday  veek  as  ever  were ; 

I  gits  a  letter,  which  I  spelt 

*  Mis  M.  A.  Hoggins,  Buckley  Square. ' 

"  He  sent  me  back  my  money  true — 

He  sent  me  back  my  lock  of  air, 
And  said,  '  My  dear,  I  bid  a  jew 

To  Mary  Hann  and  Buckley  Square. 
Think  not  to  marry,  foolish  Hann, 

With  people  who  your  betters  are ; 
James  Plush  is  now  a  gentleman. 

And  you — a  cook  in  Buckley  Square. 

" '  I've  thirty  thousand  guineas  won. 

In  six  short  months  by  genus  rare ; 
You  little  thought  what  Jeames  was  on, 

Poor  Mary  Hann,  in  Buckley  Square. 
I've  thirty  thousand  guineas  net. 

Powder  and  plush  I  scorn  to  vear ; 
And  so,  Miss  Mary  Hann,  forget 

For  hever  Jeames,  of  Buckley  Square. ' " 

The  rest  of  the  MS.  is  illegible,  being  literally  washed 
away  in  a  flood  of  tears. 

A  LETTER  FROM  "JEAMES,  OF  BUCKLEY 

SQUARE.'' 

Albany,  Letter  X,  Augmt  10,  1845. 

"Sir, 

Has  a  reglar  subscriber  to  your  emusing  paper,  I  beg  leaf 
to  state  that  I  should  never  have  done  so,  had  I  supposed 
that  it  was  your  abbit  to  igspose  the  mistaries  of  privit  life, 
and  to  hinjer  the  delligit  feelings  of  umble  individyouals 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  101 


like  myself,  who  have  no  ideer  of  being  made  the  subject 
of  newspaper  criticism. 

"  I  elude,  Sir,  to  the  unjustafiable  use  which  has  been 
made  of  my  name  in  your  Journal,  where  both  my  muccan- 
tile  speclations  and  the  hinmost  pashn  of  my  art  have  been 
brot  forrards  in  a  ridicklus  way  for  the  public  emusemint. 

"  What  call,  Sir,  has  the  public  to  inquire  into  the  suckm- 
stansies  of  my  engagements  with  Miss  Mary  Hann  Oggins, 
or  to  meddle  with  their  rupsher?  Why  am  I  to  be  maid 
the  hobjick  of  your  redicule  in  a  doggral  hallit  impewted  to 
her!  I  say  impeivted^  because  in  my  time  at  least  Mary 
Hann  could  only  sign  her  -f-  niark  (has  Vyq  hoften  witnist 
it  for  her  when  she  paid  hin  at  the  Savings  Bank),  and  has 
for  sacraficing  to  the  Mewses  and  making  'poatry^  she  was  as 
hincainhle  as  Mr.  Wakley  himself. 

"  With  respect  to  the  ballit,  my  baleaf  is,  that  it  is  wrote 
by  a  footman  in  a  low  famly,  a  pore  retch  who  attempted 
to  rivle  me  in  my  affections  to  Mary  Hann — a  feller  not  five 
foot  six,  and  with  no  more  calves  to  his  legs  than  a  donkey 
— who  was  always  a  ritin  (having  been  a  doctor's  boy)  and 
who  I  nockt  down  with  a  pint  of  porter  (as  he  wellrecklex) 
at  the  3  Tuns  Jerming  Street,  for  daring  to  try  to  make  a 
but  of  me.  He  has  signed  Miss  H.'s  name  to  his  nonsmce 
and  lies :  and  you  lay  yourself  hopen  to  a  haction  for  lible 
for  insutting  them  in  your  paper. 

"  It  is  false  that  I  have  treated  Miss  H.  hill  in  ha7iy  way. 
That  I  borrowed  201b  of  her  is  trew.  But  she  confesses 
I  paid  it  back.  Can  hall  people  say  as  much  of  the  money 
they^ve  lent  or  borrowed?  No.  And  I  not  only  paid  it 
back:  but  giv  her  the  andsomest  presents  which  1  never 
should  have  eluded  to,  but  for  this  attack.  Fust,  a  silver 
thimble,  (which  I  found  in  Missus's  work-box);  secknd,  a 
voUom  of  Byrom's  poems:  third,  I  halways  brought  her  a 
glas  of  Curasore,  when  we  ad  a  party,  of  which  she  was 
remarkable  fond.  I  treated  her  to  Hashley's  twice,  (and 
halways  a  srimp  or  a  hoyster  by  the  way),  and  a  thowsnd 
deligit  attentions j  which  I  sapose  count  for  nothink, 

"Has  for  marridge.    Haltered  suckmstancies  rendered 


102       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


it  himpossable.  I  was  gone  into  a  new  spear  of  life — 
mingling  with  my  native  aristoxy.  I  breathe  no  sallible  of 
blame  aginst  Miss  H.  but  his  a  hilliterit  cookmaid  fit  to  set 
at  a  fashnable  table?  Do  young  fellers  of  rank  generally 
marry  out  of  the  Kitching?  If  we  cast  our  i's  upon  a  low- 
born gal,  I  neednd  say  it's  only  a  tempory  distraction, 
passy  le  tong.  So  much  for  her  claims  upon  me.  Has  for 
that  heest  of  a  Doctor^ s  boy,  he's  unwuthy  the  notas  of  a 
Gentleman. 

"That  I've  one  thirty  thousand  lb,  and  praps  more,  I 
dont  deny.  Ow  much  has  the  Kilossus  of  Eailroads  one,  I 
should  like  to  know,  and  what  was  his  cappitle?  I  hen- 
tered  the  market  with  201b,  specklated  Jewdicious,  and  ham 
what  I  ham.  So  may  you  be  (if  you  have  201b,  and  praps 
you  haven't) — So  may  you  be:  if  you  choose  to  go  in  & 
win. 

"  I  for  my  part  am  jusly  prowd  of  my  suxess,  and  could 
give  you  a  hundred  instances  of  my  gratatude.  Forigsam- 
ple,  the  fust  pair  of  bosses  I  bought  (and  a  better  pair  of 
steppers  I  dafy  you  to  see  in  hany  curracle,)  I  crisn'd  Hull 
and  Selby,  in  grateful  elusion  to  my  transackshns  in  that 
railroad.  My  riding  Cob  I  called  very  unhaptly  my  Dub- 
lin and  Galway.  He  came  down  with  me  the  other  day, 
and  I've  jest  sold  him  at  \  discount. 

"  At  fust  with  prudence  and  modration  I  only  kep  two 
grooms  for  my  stables,  one  of  whom  lickwise  waited  on  me 
at  table.  I  have  now  a  confidenshle  servant,  a  vally  de 
shamber — He  curls  my  air;  inspex  my  accounts,  and  han- 
sers  my  invitations  to  dinner.  I  call  this  Vally  my  Trent 
Vally,  for  it  was  the  prophit  I  got  from  that  exlent  line, 
which  injuiced  me  to  ingage  him. 

"  Besides  my  North  British  plate  and  breakfast  equipidge 
— I  have  two  handsom  suvvices  for  dinner — the  goold  plate 
for  Sundays,  and  the  silver  for  common  use.  When  I  ave 
a  great  party,  *  Trent, '  I  say  to  my  man,  *  we  will  have  the 
London  and  Bummingham  plate  to-day  (the  goold),  or  else 
the  Manchester  and  Leeds  (the  silver).'  I  bought  them 
after  realizing  on  the  abuf  lines,  and  if  people  suppose  that 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  103 


the  companys  made  me  a  presnt  of  the  plate,  how  can  I 
help  it? 

In  the  sam  way  I  say, '  Trent,  bring  us  a  bottle  of  Bris- 
tol and  Hexeter !  ^  or,  '  Put  some  Heastern  Counties  in 
hice!'  knows  what  I  mean:  it's  the  wines  I  bought 
upon  the  hospicious  tummination  of  my  connexshn  with 
those  two  railroads. 

So  strong  indeed  as  this  abbit  become,  that  being  asked 
to  stand  Godfather  to  the  youngest  Miss  Diddle  last  week, 
I  had  her  christened  (provisionally)  Eosamell — from  the 
French  line  of  which  I  am  Director;  and  only  the  other 
day,  finding  myself  rayther  unwell,  '  Doctor,'  says  I  to  Sir 
Jeames  Clark,  ^  I've  sent  to  consult  you  because  my  Mid- 
lands are  out  of  horder  and  I  want  you  to  send  them  up  to 
a  premium.'  The  Doctor  lafd,  and  I  beleave  told  the  story 
subsquintly  at  Buckinum  P — 11 — s. 

"  But  I  will  trouble  you  no  father.  My  sole  objict  in 
writing  has  been  to  clear  my  carrater — to  show  that  I  came 
by  my  money  in  a  hour  able  way ;  that  I'm  not  ashaymd  of 
the  manner  in  which  I  gaynd  it,  and  ham  indeed  grateful 
for  my  good  fortune. 

"To  conclude,  I  have  ad  my  podigree  maid  out  at  the 
Erald  Hoffis  (I  don't  mean  the  Morning  Erald),  and  have 
took  for  my  arms  a  Stagg.  You  are  corrict  in  stating  that 
I  am  of  hancient  Normin  famly.  This  is  more  than  Peal 
can  say,  to  whomb  I  applied  for  a  barnetcy ;  but  the  prim- 
mier  being  of  low  igstraction,  natrally  stickles  for  his  horder. 
Consurvative  though  I  be,  i  may  change  my  opinions  before 
the  next  Election,  when  I  intend  to  hoffer  myself  as  a  Can- 
dydick  for  Parlymint. 

"  Mean  wild,  I  have  the  honour  to  be.  Sir, 
"  Your  most  obeajnt  Survnt, 

"FiTz- James  de  la  Pluche.'^ 


104       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


JEAMES'S  DIAKY. 

One  day  in  the  panic  week,  our  friend  Jeames  called  at 
our  Office,  evidently  in  great  perturbation  of  mind  and  dis- 
order of  dress.  He  had  no  flower  in  his  button-hole;  his 
yellow  kid  gloves  were  certainly  two  days  old.  He  had 
not  above  three  of  the  ten  chains  he  usually  sports,  and  his 
great  coarse  knotty-knuckled  old  hands  were  deprived  of 
some  dozen  of  the  rubies,  emeralds,  and  other  cameos  with 
which,  since  his  elevation  to  fortune,  the  poor  fellow  has 
thought  fit  to  adorn  himself. 

How's  scrip,  Mr.  Jeames?  said  we  pleasantly,  greet- 
ing our  esteemed  contributor. 

"  Scrip  be  replied  he,  with  an  expression  we  can- 
not repeat,  and  a  look  of  agony  it  is  impossible  to  describe 
in  print,  and  walked  about  the»  parlour  whistling,  hum- 
ming, rattling  his  keys  and  coppers,  and  showing  other 
signs  of  agitation.  At  last,  Mr^  Punch,  ^  says  he,  after  a 
moment's  hesitation,  "I  wish  to  speak  to  you  on  a  pint  of 
businiss.  I  wish  to  be  paid  for  my  contribewtions  to  your 
paper.  Suckmstances  is  haltered  with  me.  I — I — in  a 
word,  can  you  lend  me  — £  for  the  account?  " 

He  named  the  sum.  It  was  one  so  great,  that  we  don't 
care  to  mention  it  here;  but  on  receiving  a  cheque  for  the 
amount  (on  Messrs.  Pump  and  Aldgate,  bankers),  tears 
came  into  the  honest  fellow's  eyes.  He  squeezed  our  hand 
until  he  nearly  wrung  it  off,  and,  shouting  to  a  cab,  he 
plunged  into  it  at  our  office- door,  and  was  off  to  the  City. 

Returning  to  our  study,  we  found  he  had  left  on  our 
table  an  open  pocket-book;  of  the  contents  of  which  (for 
the  sake  of  safety)  we  took  an  inventory.  It  contained: 
— three  tavern-bills,  paid;  a  tailor's  ditto,  unsettled;  forty- 
nine  allotments  in  different  companies,  twenty-six  thousand 
seven  hundred  shares  in  all,  of  which  the  market  value  we 
take,  on  an  average,  to  be  \  discount;  and  in  an  old  bit  of 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  105 

paper  tied  with  pink  riband  a  lock  of  chestnut  hair,  with 
the  initials  M.  A.  H. 

In  the  diary  of  the  pocket-book  was  a  Journal,  jotted 
down  by  the  proprietor  from  time  to  time.  At  first  the 
entries  are  insignificant ;  as,  for  instance : — "  3rd  January 
— Our  beer  in  the  Suvnts'  Hall  so  i^vecious  small  at  this 
Christmas  time  that  I  reely  miiss  give  warning,  &  wood, 
but  for  my  dear  Mary  Hann.'^  '^February  7 — That  broot 
Screw,  the  Butler,  wanted  to  kiss  her,  my  dear  Mary  Hann 
boxt  his  hold  hears,  &  served  him  right.  I  datest  Screw  " 
— and  so  forth.  Then  the  diary  relates  to  Stock  Exchange 
operations,  until  we  come  to  the  time  when,  having  achieved 
his  successes,  Mr.  James  quitted  Berkeley  Square  and  his 
livery,  and  began  his  life  as  a  speculator  and  a  gentleman 
upon  town.  It  is  from  the  latter  part  of  his  diary  that 
we  make  the  following 

EXTRAX. 

"  Wen  I  anounced  in  the  Servnts  All  my  axeshn  of  f ort- 
ing,  and  that  by  the  exasize  of  my  own  talince  and  ingiani- 
uty  I  had  reerlized  a  sum  of  20,000  lb.  (it  was  only  5,  but 
what's  the  use  of  a  mann  depreshiating  the  qualaty  of  his 
own  mackyrel?)  Wen  I  enounced  my  abrup  mtention  to 
cut — you  should  have  scan  the  sensation  among  hall  the 
people!  Cook  wanted  to  know  whether  I  woodn  like  a 
sweatbred,  or  the  slice  of  the  brest  of  a  Cold  Turkey. 
Screw,  the  butler,  (womb  I  always  detested  as  a  hinsalant 
hover-baring  beest)  begged  me  to  walk  into  the  Hupper 
Servnts  All,  and  try  a  glass  of  Shuperior  Shatto  Margo. 
Heven  Visp,  the  coachmin,  eld  out  his  and,  &  said, '  Jeames, 
I  hopes  theres  no  quarraling  betwigst  you  and  me,  and  1^11 
stand  a  pot  of  beer  with  pleasure.' 

The  sickof nts ! — that  wery  Cook  had  split  on  me  to  the 
Housekeeper  ony  last  week  (catchin  me  priggin  some  cold 
tuttle  soop,  of  which  I'm  remarkable  fond).  Has  for  the 
Butler,  I  always  ebomminated  him  for  his  precious  snears 
and  imperence  to  all  us  Gents  who  woar  livry,  (he  never 


106       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


would  sit  in  our  parlour,  fasooth,  nor  drink  out  of  our 
mugs) ;  and  in  regard  of  Visp — why,  it  was  ony  the  day 
before  the  wulgar  beest  hoffered  to  fite  me,  and  thretnd  to 
give  me  a  good  iding  if  I  refused.  '  Gentlemen  and  ladies,' 
says  I,  as  haughty  as  may  be,  *  there's  nothink  that  I  want 
for  that  I  can't  go  for  to  buy  with  my  hown  money,  and 
take  at  my  lodgins  in  Halbany,  letter  Hex;  if  I'm  'ungry 
I've  no  need  to  refresh  myself  in  the  hitching,''  And,  so 
saying,  I  took  a  dignafied  ajew  of  these  minnial  domestics ; 
and  asending  to  my  epartment  in  the  4  pair  back,  brushed 
the  powder  out  of  my  air,  and,  taking  hoff  those  hojous 
livries  for  hever,  put  on  a  new  soot,  made  for  me  by  Cullin, 
of  St.  Jeames  Street,  and  which  fitted  my  manly  figger  as 
tight  as  whacks. 

"There  was  one  pusson  in  the  house  with  womb  I  was 
rayther  anxious  to  evoid  a  persnal  leave-taking — Mary  Hann 
Oggins,  I  mean — for  my  art  is  natural  tender,  and  I  can't 
abide  seeing  a  pore  gal  in  pane.  I'd  given  her  previous  the 
infamation  of  my  departure — doing  the  ansome  thing  by 
her  at  the  same  time — paying  her  back  20  lb.,  which  she'd 
lent  me  6  months  before :  and  paying  her  back  not  ony  the 
interest,  but  I  gave  her  an  andsome  pair  of  scissars  and  a 
silver  thimbil,  by  way  of  boanus.  '  Mary  Hann,'  says  I, 
^  suckimstancies  has  haltered  our  rellatif  positions  in  life. 
I  quit  the  Servnts'  Hall  for  hever,  (for  has  for  your  marry- 
ing a  person  in  my  rank,  that  my  dear  is  hall  gammin), 
and  so  I  wish  you  a  good-by,  my  good  gal,  and  if  you  want 
to  better  yourself,  halways  refer  to  me.' 

"  Mary  Hann  didn't  hanser  my  speech  (which  I  think 
was  remarkable  kind),  but  looked  at  me  in  the  face  quite 
wild  like,  and  bust  into  something  betwigst  a  laugh  &  cry, 
and  fell  down  with  her  ed  on  the  kitching  dresser,  where 
she  lay  until  her  young  Missis  rang  the  dressing-room  bell. 
Would  you  bleave  it?  She  left  the  thimbil  &  things,  &  my 
check  for  20  lb.  10s.  on  the  tabil,  when  she  went  to  hanser 
the  bell?  And  now  I  heard  her  sobbing  and  vimpering  in 
her  own  room  nex  but  one  to  mine,  with  the  dore  open,  per- 
aps  expecting  I  should  come  in  and  say  good-by.    But,  as 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  107 


soon  as  I  was  dressed,  I  cut  down  stairs,  hony  desiring 
Frederick,  my  fellow-servnt,  to  fetch  me  a  cabb,  and  re- 
questing permission  to  take  leaf  of  my  lady  &  the  famly 
before  my  departure. 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  How  Miss  Hemly  did  hogle  me  to  be  sure !  Her  lady- 
ship told  me  what  a  sweet  gal  she  was — hamiable,  fond  of 
poetry,  plays  the  gitter.  Then  she  hasked  me  if  I  liked 
blond  bewties  and  haubin  hair.  Haubin,  indeed!  I  don't 
like  carrits!  as  it  must  be  confest  Miss  Hemly' s  his — and 
has  for  a  blond  bitty  she  as  pink  I's  like  a  Halbino,  and  her 
face  looks  as  if  it  were  dipt  in  a  brann  mash.  How  she 
squeeged  my  &  as  she  went  away ! 

Mary  Hann  now  has  haubin  air,  and  a  cumplexion  like 
roses  and  hivory,  and  I's  as  blew  as  Evin. 

"  I  gev  Frederick  two  and  six  for  fetchin  the  cabb — been 
resolved  to  hact  the  gentleman  in  hall  things.  How  he 
stared!'' 

"  2hth. — I  am  now  director  of  forty-seven  hadvantageous 
lines,  and  have  past  hall  day  in  the  Citty.  Although  I've 
hate  or  nine  new  soots  of  close,  and  Mr.  CuUin  fitts  me 
heligant,  yet  I  fansy  they  hall  reckonise  me<  Conshus 
wispers  to  me — ^  Jeams,  you'r  hony  a  footman  in  disguise 
hafter  all.'" 

"28^^7^.— Been  to  the  Hopra.  Music  tol  lol.  That 
Lablash  is  a  wopper  at  singing.  I  coodn  make  out  why 
some  people  called  out  '  Bravo,'  some  '  Bravar,'  and  some 
*  Bravee.'  '  Bravee,  Lablash,'  says  I,  at  which  hevery  body 
laft. 

"I'm  in  my  new  stall.  I've  add  new  cushings  put  in, 
and  my  harms  in  goold  on  the  back.  I'm  dressed  hall  in 
black,  excep  a  gold  waistcoat  and  dimind  studds  in  the  em- 
broidered busom  of  my  shameese.  I  wear  a  Camallia 
Jiponiky  in  my  button  ole,  and  have  a  double-barreld  opera 
glas,  so  big,  that  I  make  Timmins,  my  secnd  man,  bring  it 
in  the  other  cabb. 


108       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


"  What  an  igstronry  exabishn  that  Pawdy  Carter  is !  If 
those  four  gals  are  faries,  Tellioni  is  sutnly  the  fairy 
Queend.  She  can  do  all  that  they  can  do,  and  somethink 
they  can't.  There's  an  indiscrible  grace  about  her,  and 
Carlotty,  my  sweet  Carlotty,  she  sets  my  art  in  flams. 

Ow  that  Miss  Hemly  was  noddin  and  winkin  at  me  out 
of  their  box  on  the  fourth  tear? 

What  linx  i's  she  must  av.  As  if  I  could  mount  up 
there ! 

'^F.S. — Talking  of  mounting  hup!  the  St.  Helena's 
walked  up  4  per  cent  this  very  day." 

"  2nd  July, — Kode  my  bay  oss  Desperation  in  the  park. 
There  was  me,  Lord  George  Ringwood  (Lord  Cinqbar's 
son),  LordBallybunuion,  Honorable  Capting  Trap,  &  sevral 
young  swells.  Sir  John's  carridge  there  in  coarse.  Miss 
Hemly  lets  fall  her  booky  as  I  pass,  and  I'm  obleged  to 
get  hoff  and  pick  it  hup,  &  get  splashed  up  to  the  his. 
The  gettin  on  hoss  back  agin  is  halways  the  juice  &  hall. 
Just  as  I  was  hon.  Desperation  begins  a-porring  the  hair 
with  his  4  feet,  and  sinks  down  so  on  his  anches,  that  I'm 
blest  if  I  didn't  slip  off  agin  over  his  tail;  at  which  Bally- 
bunnion  &  the  other  chaps  rord  with  lafter. 

"  As  Bally  has  istates  in  Queen's  County,  I've  put  him 
on  the  Saint  Helena  direction.  We  call  it  the  '  Great  St. 
Helena  Napoleon  Junction,  from  Jamestown  to  Long- 
wood.'    The  French  are  taking  it  hup  heagerly." 

"  &th  July, — Dined  to-day  at  the  London  Tavin  with  one 
of  the  Welsh  bords  of  Direction  I'm  hon.  The  Cwrwmwrw 
&  Plmwyddlywm,  with  tunnils  through  Snowding  &  Plin- 
limming. 

"  Great  nashnallity  of  coarse.  Ap  Shinkin  in  the  chair, 
Ap  Llwydd  in  the  vice ;  Welsh  mutton  for  dinner;  Welsh 
iron  knives  &  forks;  Welsh  rabbit  after  dinner;  and  a 
Welsh  harper,  be  hanged  to  him ;  he  went  strummint  on 
his  hojous  hinstrument,  and  played  a  toon  piguliarly  dis- 
agreeable to  me. 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  109 


"  It  was  '  Pore  Mary  Hann.  ^  The  elarrit  holmost  choaked 
me  as  I  tried  it,  and  I  very  nearly  wep  myself  as  I  thought 
of  her  bewtifle  blue  i's.  Why  ham  I  always  thinkin  about 
that  gal?  Sasiaty  is  sasiaty,  it's  lors  is  irresistabl.  Has 
j  a  man  of  rank  I  can't  marry  a  serving-made.  What  would 
Cinqbar  &  Bally bunnion  say? 

P,S, — I  don't  like  the  way  that  Cinqbars  has  of  borro- 
ing  money,  &  halways  making  me  pay  the  bill.  Seven 
pound  six  at  the  Shipp,  Grinnidge,  which  I  don't  grudge  ' 
it,  for  Derbyshire's  brown  Ock  is  the  best  in  Urup;  nine 
pound  three  at  the  Trafflygar,  and  seventeen  pound  sixteen 
&  nine  at  the  Star  and  Garter,  Eichmond,  with  the  Countess 
St.  Emilion  &  the  Baroness  Frontignac.  Not  one  word  of 
French  could  I  speak,  and  in  consquince  had  nothink  to  do 
but  to  make  myself  halmost  sick  with  heating  hices  and 
desert,  while  the  bothers  were  chattering  &  parlyvooing. 

"Ha!  I  remember  going  to  Grinnidge  once  with  Mary 
Hann,  when  we  were  more  happy,  (after  a  walk  in  the  park, 
where  we  ad  one  gingy-beer  betwigst  us,)  more  appy  with 
tea  and  a  simple  srimp  than  with  hall  this  splender ! " 

''July  24., — My  first  floor  apartmince  in  the  Halbiny  is 
now  kimpletely  and  chasely  funnished — the  droring-room 
with  yellow  satting  and  silver  for  the  chairs  and  sophies — 
hemrall  green  tabbinet  curtings  with  pink  velvet  &  goold 
borders  &  fringes;  a  light  blue  Haxminster  Carpit,  em- 
broydered  with  tulips;  tables,  secritaires,  cunsoles,  &c.,  as 
handsome  as  goold  can  make  them,  and  candlesticks  and 
shandalers  of  the  purest  Hormolew. 

"The  Dining-room  funniture  is  all  hoak,  British  Hoak; 
round  igspanding  table,  like  a  trick  in  a  Pantimime,  iccom- 
adating  any  number  from  8  to  24 — to  which  it  is  my  wish 
to  restrict  my  parties — Curtings  Crimsing  damask.  Chairs 
crimsing  myrocky.  Portricks  of  my  favorite  great  men 
decorats  the  wall — namely  the  Duke  of  Wellington.  There's 
four  of  his  Grace.  For  I've  remarked  that  if  you  wish  to 
pass  for  a  man  of  weight  &  considration  you  should  holways 
praise  and  quote  him — I  have  a  valluble  one  lickwise  of  my 


110       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


Queend,  and  2  of  Prince  Halbert — has  a  Field  Martial  and 
halso  as  a  privat  Gent.  I  despise  the  vulgar  snears  that 
are  daily  huUered  aginst  that  Igsolted  Pottentat.  Betwigst 
the  Prins  &  the  Duke  hangs  me,  in  the  Uniform  of  the 
Cinqbar  Militia,  of  which  Cinqbars  has  made  me  Capting. 
^^The  Libery  is  not  yet  done. 

"But  the  Bedd-roomb  is  the  Jem  of  the  whole — if  you 
could  but  see  it!  such  a  Bedworr !  IVe  a  Shuval  Dressing 
Glass  festooned  with  Walanseens  Lace,  and  lighted  up  of 
evenings  with  rose-coloured  tapers.  Goold  dressing  case 
and  twilet  of  Dresding  Cheny.  My  bed  white  and  gold 
with  curtings  of  pink  and  silver  brocayd  held  up  a  top  by 
a  goold  Qpid  who  seems  always  a-smilin  angillicly  hon  me, 
has  I  lay  with  my  Ed  on  my  piller  hall  sarounded  with  the 
finest  Mechlin.  I  have  a  own  man,  a  yuth  under  him,  2 
groombs,  and  a  fimmale  for  the  House — IVe  7  osses:  in 
cors  if  I  hunt  this  winter  I  must  increase  my  ixtablishment. 

N.B. — Heverythink  looking  well  in  the  City.  Saint 
Helenas,  12  p.m.,  Madagascars,  9|,  Saifron  Hill  &  Eook- 
ery  Junction,  24,  and  the  new  lines  in  prospick  equily 
incour  aging. 

"  People  phansy  its  hall  gaiety  and  pleasure  the  life  of 
us  fashnable  gents  about  townd — But  I  can  tell  'em  it's  not 
hall  goold  that  glitters.  They  don't  know  our  moments  of 
hagony,  hour  ours  of  studdy  and  reflecshun.  They  little 
think  when  they  see  Jeames  de  la  Pluche,  Exquire,  worl- 
ing  round  in  walce  at  Halmax  with  Lady  Hann,  or  lazaly 
stepping  a  kidrill  with  Lady  Jane,  poring  helegant  nothinx 
into  the  Countess's  hear  at  dinner,  or  gallopin  his  hoss 
Desperation  hover  the  exorcisin  ground  in  the  Park, — they 
little  think  that  leader  of  the  tong,  seaminkly  so  reckliss, 
is  a  careworn  mann!  and  yet  so  it  is. 

"Imprymus.  I've  been  ableged  to  get  up  all  the  ecom- 
plishments  at  double  quick,  &  to  apply  myself  with  tree- 
menjuous  energy. 

"First, — in  border  to  give  myself  a  hideer  of  what  a 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  Ill 


gentleman  reely  is — I've  read  the  novvle  of  ^  Pelham'  six 
times,  and  am  to  go  through  it  4  times  mor. 

"  I  practis  ridin  and  the  acquirement  of  ^  a  steady  and  & 
a  sure  seat  across  Country '  assijuously  4  times  a  week,  at 
the  Hippydrum  Eiding  Grounds.  Many's  the  tumbil  I  'av 
ad,  and  the  aking  boans  I've  suffered  from,  though  I  was 
grinnin  in  the  Park  or  laffin  at  the  Opra. 

"  Every  morning  from  6  till  9,  the  innabitance  of  Hal  - 
bany  may  have  been  surprised  to  hear  the  sounds  of  music 
ishuing  from  the  apartmince  of  Jeames  de  la  Pluche,  Ex- 
quire,  Letter  Hex.  It's  my  dancing-master.  From  six  to 
nine  we  have  walces  and  polkies — at  nine  *  mangtiang  & 
depotment,'  as  he  calls  it;  &  the  manner  of  hentering  a 
room,  complimenting  the  ost  &  ostess  &  compotting  your- 
self at  table.  At  nine  I  henter  from  my  dressing-room  (has 
to  a  party),  I  make  my  bow — my  master  (he's  a  Marquis 
in  France,  and  ad  misfortins,  being  connected  with  young 
Lewy  Nepoleum)  reseaves  me — I  hadwance — speak  abowt 
the  weather  &  the  toppix  of  the  day  in  an  elegant  &  cus- 
sory  manner.  Brekf st  is  enounced  by  Fitzwarren,  my  mann 
— we  precede  to  the  festive  bord — complimence  is  igschanged 
with  the  manner  of  drinking  wind,  adressing  your  neigh- 
bour, employing  your  napking  &  finger-glas,  &c.  And 
then  we  fall  to  brekfst,  when  I  promiss  you  the  Marquis 
don't  eat  like  a  commoner.  He  says  I'm  getten  on  very 
well — soon  I  shall  be  able  to  invite  people  to  brekfst,  like 
Mr.  Mills,  my  rivle  in  Halbany;  Mr.  Macauly,  (who  wrote 
that  sweet  book  of  ballets,  '  The  Lays  of  Hancient  Kum,') 
&  the  great  Mr.  Eodgers  himself." 

"  The  above  was  wrote  some  weeks  back.  I  have  given 
brekfsts  sins  then,  reglar  Deshimys,  I  have  ad  Earls  and 
Ycounts — Barnits  as  many  as  I  chose :  and  the  pick  of  the 
Railway  world,  of  which  I  form  a  member.  Last  Sunday 
was  a  grand  Fate,  I  had  the  Eleet  of  my  friends :  the  dis- 
play was  sumptions;  the  com^2ii[ij  reshershy .  Everything 
that  Dellixy  could  suggest  was  by  Gunter  provided.  I  had 
a  Countiss  on  my  right  &  (the  Countess  of  Wigglesbury, 


112       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


that  loveliest  and  most  dashing  of  Staggs,  who  may  be 

called  the  Eailway  Queend,  as  my  friend  George  H  is 

the  Eailway  King)  on  my  left  the  Lady  Blanche  Bluenose 
— Prince  Towrowski — the  great  Sir  Huddlestone  Fuddle- 
stone,  from  the  North,  and  a  skoar  of  the  fust  of  the  fashn. 
I  was  in  my  gloary.  The  dear  Countess  and  Lady  Blanche 
was  dying  with  laffing  at  my  joax  and  fun.  I  was  keeping 
the  whole  table  in  a  roar — when  there  came  a  ring  at  my 
door-bell,  and  sudnly  Fitzwarren,  my  man,  henters  with 
an  air  of  constanation ;  ^  There^s  somebody  at  the  door,' 
says  he,  in  a  visper. 

^^^^0,  it's  that  dear  Lady  Hemily,'  says  I,  ^  and  that 
lazy  raskle  of  a  husband  of  her's.  Trot  them  in,  Fitz- 
warren,' (for  you  see,  by  this  time  I  had  adopted  quite  the 
manners  and  hease  of  the  arristoxy,) — And  so,  going  out, 
with  a  look  of  wonder  he  returned  presently,  enouncing 
Mr.  &  Mrs.  Blodder. 

turned  gashly  pail.  The  table — the  guests — the 
Countiss — Towrouski,  and  the  rest,  weald  round  &  round 
before  my  hagitated  I's.  It  was  my  Grandmother  and 
Huncle  Bill.  She  is  a  washerwoman  at  Healing  Common, 
and  he — he  keeps  a  wegetable  donkey-cart. 

"  Y,  Y  hadn't  John,  the  tiger,  igscluded  them?  He  had 
tried.  But  the  unconscious,  though  worthy  creeters,  ad- 
wanced  in  spite  of  him,  Huncle  Bill  bringing  in  the  old 
lady  grinning  on  his  harm ! 

^^Phansy  my  feelinx." 


"  Immagin  when  these  unf ortnat  members  of  my  family 
hentered  the  room :  you  may  phansy  the  ixtonnishment  of 
the  nobil  company  presnt.  Old  Grann  looked  round  the 
room  quite  estounded  by  its  horientle  splender,  and  huncle 
Bill  (pulling  hoff  his  phantail,  &  seluting  the  company  as 
respeckfly  as  his  wulgar  natur  would  alow)  says — '  Crikey, 
Jeames,  you've  got  a  better  birth  here  than  you  ad  where 
you  were  in  the  plush  and  powder  line.'  '  Try  a  few  of 
them  plovers'  hegs,  sir,'  I  says,  whishing,  I'm  asheamed 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  113 


to  say,  that  souiethink  would  choke  huncle  B  ;  ^  and  I 

hope,  mam,  now  you've  ad  the  kindniss  to  wisit  me,  a  little 
refreshmint  won't  be  out  of  your  way/ 

"  This  I  said,  detummined  to  put  a  good  f  ase  on  the  mat- 
ter; and  because,  in  herly  times,  I'd  reseaved  a  great  deal 
of  kindniss  from  the  hold  lady,  which  I  should  be  a  roag 
to  f orgit.  She  paid  for  my  schooling ;  she  got  up  my  fine 
linning  gratis;  she's  given  me  many  &  many  a  lb;  and 
manys  the  time  in  appy  appy  days  when  me  and  Mary 
Hann  has  taken  tea.  But  never  mind  that,  '  Mam,^  says 
I,  ^  you  must  be  tired  hafter  your  walk.' 

Walk?  Nonsince,  Jeames,'  says  she;  '  it's  Saturday, 
&  I  came  in,  in  the  cart,^  '  Black  or  green  tea,  maam? ' 
says  Fitzwarren,  intarupting  her.  And  I  will  say  the  fel- 
ler showed  his  nouce  &  good  breeding  in  this  difficklt  mo- 
mink;  for  he'd  halready  silenced  huncle  Bill,  whose  mouth 
was  now  full  of  muffinx,  am,  Blowny  sausag,  Perrigole  pie, 
and  other  dellixies. 

"'Wouldn't  you  like  a  little  somethink  in  your  tea, 
Mam?  '  says  that  sly  wagg  Cinqbars.  '  He  knows  what  I 
likes,'  replies  the  hawfle  hold  Lady,  pinting  to  me  (which 
I  knew  it  very  well,  having  often  seen  her  take  a  glas  of 
hojous  gin  along  with  her  Bohee),  and  so  I  was  ableeged 
to  border  Fitzwarren  to  bring  round  the  licures,  and  to  help 
my  unfortnit  rellatif  to  a  bumper  of  Ollands.  She  tost  it 
hoff  to  the  elth  of  the  company,  giving  a  smack  with  her 
lipps,  after  she'd  emtied  the  glas,  which  very  nearly  caused 
me  to  phaint  with  hagny.  But,  luckaly  for  me,  she  didn't 
igspose  herself  much  farther;  for  when  Cinqbars  was  press- 
ing her  to  take  another  glas,  I  cried  out, '  Don't,  my  lord,' 
on  which  old  Grann  hearing  him  edressed  by  his  title,  cried 
out,  '  A  Lord !  0,  lor ! '  and  got  up  and  made  him  a  cutsy, 
and  coodn't  be  peswaded  to  speak  another  word.  The 
presents  of  the  noble  gent,  heavidently  made  her  uneesy. 

"  The  Countiss  on  my  right  and  had  shownt  symtms  of 
ixtream  disgust  at  the  beayviour  of  my  relations,  and,  hav- 
ing called  for  her  carridge,  got  up  to  leave  the  room,  with 
the  most  dignified  hair.    I,  of  coarse,  rose  to  conduct  her 


114       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


to  her  weakle.  Ah,  what  a  contrast  it  was!  There  it 
stood,  with  stars  and  garters  hall  hover  the  pannels;  the 
footmin  in  peach-coloured  tites;  the  hosses  worth  3  hun- 
dred a-peace ; — and  there  stood  the  horrid  linnen-cart,  with 
^  Mary  Blodder,  Laundress,  Ealing,  Middlesex,'  wrote  on 
the  bord,  and  waiting  until  my  abandind  old  parint  should 
come  out. 

"  Cinqbars  insisted  upon  helping  her  in.  Sir  Huddleston 
Fuddlestone,  the  great  barnet  from  the  North,  who,  great 
as  he  is,  is  as  stewpid  as  a  howl,  looked  on,  hardly  trusting 
his  goggle  I's  as  they  witnessed  the  Sean.  But  little  lively 
good  naterd  Lady  Kitty  Quickset,  who  was  going  away 
with  the  Countiss,  held  her  little  &  out  of  the  carridge  to 
me  and  said,  '  Mr.  de  la  Pluche,  you  are  a  much  better 
man  than  I  took  you  to  be.  Though  her  Ladyship  is  hor- 
rified, &  though  your  Grandmother  did  take  gin  for  break- 
fast, don't  give  her  up.  No  one  ever  came  to  harm  yet  for 
honoring  their  father  &  mother.' 

"And  this  was  a  sort  of  consolation  to  me,  and  I  ob- 
served that  all  the  good  fellers  thought  none  the  wuss  of 
me.  Cinqbars  said  I  was  a  trump  for  sticking  up  for  the 
old  washerwoman;  Lord  George  Gills  said  she  should  have 
his  linning;  and  so  they  cut  their  joax,  and  I  let  them. 
But  it  was  a  great  releaf  to  my  mind  when  the  cart  drove 
hoff. 

"  There  was  one  pint  which  my  Grandmother  observed, 
and  which,  I  muss  say,  1  thought  lickwise;  ^  Ho,  Jeames,' 
says  she,  '  hall  those  fine  ladies  in  sattns  and  velvets  is 
very  well,  but  there's  not  one  of  em  can  hold  a  candle  to 
Mary  Hann.'  " 

"  Eailway  Spec  is  going  on  phamously .  You  should  see 
how  polite  they  har  at  my  bankers  now !  Sir  Paul  Pump 
Aldgate  &  Company.  They -bow  me  out  of  the  back  parlor 
as  if  I  was  a  Nybobb.  Everybody  says  I'm  worth  half  a 
million.  The  number  of  lines  they're  putting  me  upon,  is 
inkumseavable.  I've  put  Fitzwarren,  my  man,  upon  sev- 
eral.   Eeginald  Fitzwarren,  Esquire,  looks  splendid  in  a 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  115 


perspectus;  and  the  raskle  owns  that  he  has  made  two 
thowsnd. 

"  How  the  ladies  &  men  too,  f oiler  &  flatter  me !  If  I 
go  into  Lady  Binsis  hopra  box,  she  makes  room  for  me, 
whoever  is  there,  and  cries  out,  '  0  do  make  room  for  that 
dear  creature ! '  And  she  complyments  me  on  my  taste  in 
musick,  or  my  new  Broom-oss,  or  the  phansy  of  my  weskit, 
and  always  ends  by  asking  me  for  some  shares.  Old  Lord 
Bareacres,  as  stiff  as  a  poaker,  as  prowd  as  Loosyfer,  as 
poor  as  Joab — even  he  condysends  to  be  sivvle  to  the  great 
De  la  Pluche,  and  begged  me  at  Harthur's,  lately,  in  his 
soUom,  pompus  way, '  to  faver  him  with  five  minutes'  con- 
versation/ I  knew  what  was  coming — application  for 
shares — put  him  down  on  my  private  list.  Wouldn't  mind 
the  Scrag  End  Junction  passing  through  Bareacres — hoped 
I'd  come  down  and  shoot  there. 

"  I  gave  the  old  humbugg  a  few  shares  out  of  my  own 
pocket.  '  There,  old  Pride,'  says  I,  '  I  like  to  see  you 
down  on  your  knees  to  a  footman.  There,  old  Pomposs- 
aty!  Take  fifty  pound;  I  like  to  see  you  come  cringing 
and  begging  for  it.'  Whenever  I  see  him  in  a  very  public 
place,  I  take  my  change  for  my  money.  I  digg  him  in 
the  ribbs,  or  slap  his  padded  old  shoulders.  I  call  him, 
'  Bareacres,  my  old  Buck! '  and  I  see  him  wince.  It  does 
my  art  good. 

"I'm  in  low  sperits.  A  disagreeable  insadent  has  just 
occurred.  Lady  Pump,  the  banker's  wife,  asked  me  to 
dinner.  I  sat  on  her  right,  of  coarse,  with  an  uncommon 
gal  ner  me,  with  whom  I  was  getting  on  in  my  fassanating 
way — full  of  lacy  ally  (as  the  Marquis  says)  and  easy 
plesntry.  Old  Pump,  from  the  end  of  the  table,  asked  me 
to  drink  Shampane;  and  on  turning  to  take  the  glass  I 
saw  Charles  Wackles  (with  womb  I'd  been  imployed  at 
Colonel  Spurriers'  house)  grinning  over  his  shoulder  at  the 
Butler. 

"The  beest  reckonized  me.  Has  I  was  putting  on  my 
palto  in  the  hall,  he  came  up  again  :  'How  dy  doo,  Jeames,' 
says  he,  in  a  findish  visper.    ^  Just  come  out  here,  Chawles,' 


116       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


says  I,  '  I've  a  word  for  you,  my  old  boy.'  So  I  beckoned 
him  into  Portland  Place,  with  my  pus  in  my  hand,  as  if  I 
was  going  to  give  him  a  sovaring. 

^^^I  think  you  said  "Jeames,''  Chawles,'  says  I,  '  and 
grind  at  me  at  dinner?  ' 

Why,  sir,'  says  he,  ^  we're  old  friends,  you  know.' 

" '  Take  that  for  old  friendship  then,'  says  I,  and  I 
gave  him  just  one  on  the  noas,  which  sent  him  down  on  the 
pavemint  as  if  he'd  been  shot.  And  mounting  myjesticly 
into  my  cabb,  I  left  the  rest  of  the  grinning  scoundrills  to 
pick  him  up,  &  droav  to  the  Clubb." 


"  Have  this  day  kimpleated  a  little  ef air  with  my  friend 
George,  Earl  Bareacres,  which  I  trust  will  be  to  the  ad- 
vantidge  both  of  self  &  that  noble  gent.  Adjining  the 
Bareacre  proppaty  is  a  small  piece  of  land  of  about  100 
acres,  called  Squallop  Hill,  igseeding  advantageous  for  the 
cultivation  of  sheep,  which  have  been  found  to  have  a 
pickewlear  fine  flaviour  from  the  natur  of  the  grass,  tyme, 
heather,  and  other  hodarefarus  plants  which  grows  on  that 
mounting  in  the  places  where  the  rox  and  stones  don't 
prevent  them.  Thistles  here  is  also  remarkable  fine,  and 
the  land  is  also  devided  hoff  by  luxurient  Stone  Hedges — 
much  more  usefle  and  ickonomicle  than  your  quickset,  or 
any  of  that  rubbishing  sort  of  timber;  indeed  the  sile  is  of 
that  fine  natur,  that  timber  refuses  to  grow  there  altogether. 
I  gave  Bareacres  501,  an  acre  for  this  land  (the  igsact 
premium  of  my  St.  Helena  Shares) — a  very  handsom  price 
for  land  which  never  yielded  two  shillings  an  acre ;  and 
very  convenient  to  his  Lordship,  I  know,  who  had  a  bill 
coming  due  at  his  Bankers  which  he  had  given  them. 
Jeames  de  la  Pluche,  Esquire,  is  thus  for  the  fust  time  a 
landed  propriator — or  rayther,  I  should  say,  is  about  to 
reshume  the  rank  &  dignity  in  the  country  which  his  Han- 
cestors  so  long  occupied." 

"  I  have  caused  one  of  our  inginears  to  make  me  a  plaim 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  117 


of  the  Squallop  Estate,  Diddlesexshire,  the  property  of 
&c.,  &c.,  bordered  on  the  North  by  Lord  Bareacres'  Coun- 
try ;  on  the  West  by  Sir  Granby  Growler ;  on  the  South  by 
the  Hotion.  An  Arkytect  and  Survare,  a  young  feller  of 
great  emagination,  womb  we  have  employed  to  make  a  sur- 
vey of  the  Great  Caffrarian  line,  has  built  me  a  beautiful 
Villar  (on  paper),  Plushton  Hall,  Diddlesex,  the  seat  of  I 
de  la  P.,  Esquire.  The  house  is  reprasented  a  handsome 
Itallian  Structer,  imbusmd  in  woods,  and  circumwented  by 
beautiful  gardings.  There's  a  lake  in  front  with  boatsfull 
of  nobillaty  and  musitions  floting  on  its  placid  surface — 
and  a  curricle  is  a  driving  up  to  the  grand  hentrance,  and 
me  in  it,  with  Mrs.,  or  perhaps  Lady  Hangelina  de  la 
Pluche.  I  speak  adwisedly.  I  may  be  going  to  form  a 
noble  kinexion.  I  may  be  (by  marriage)  going  to  unight 
my  f amly  once  mor  with  Harrystoxy,  from  which  mis- 
fortn  has  for  some  sentries  separated  us.  I  have  dreams  ot 
that  sort. 

"I've  scan  sevral  times  in  a  dalitifie  vishn  a  serting  Erl 
standing  in  a  hattitude  of  bennydiction,  and  rattafying  my 
union  with  a  serting  butifle  young  lady,  his  daughter. 
Phansy  Mr.  or  Sir  Jeames  and  Lady  Hangelina  de  la 
Pluche !  Ho !  what  will  the  old  washy  woman,  my  grand- 
mother, say?  She  may  sell  her  mangle  then,  and  shall 
too,  by  my  honour  as  a  Gent." 

"As  for  Squallop  Hill,  it's  not  to  be  emadgind  that  I 
was  going  to  give  5000  lb.  for  a  bleak  mounting  like  that, 
unless  I  had  some  ideer  in  yew.  Ham  I  not  a  Director  of 
the  Grand  Diddlesex?  Don't  Squallop  lie  amediately  be- 
twigst  Old  Bone  House,  Single  Gloster,  and  Scrag  End, 
through  which  cities  our  line  passes?  I  will  have  40,000 
lb.  for  that  mounting,  or  my  name  is  not  Jeames.  I  have 
aranged  a  little  barging  too  for  my  friend  the  Erl.  The 
line  will  pass  through  a  hangle  of  Bareacre  Park.  He 
shall  have  a  good  compensation,  I  promis  you ;  and  then  I 
shall  get  back  the  3000  I  lent  him,  His  banker's  account, 
I  fear,  is  in  a  horrid  state,'' 


118       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


[The  Diary  now  for  several  days  contains  particulars  of  no 
interest  to  the  public : — Memoranda  of  City  dinners — 
meetings  of  Directors — fashionable  parties  in  which 
Mr.  Jeames  figures,  and  almost  always  by  the  side  of 
his  new  friend,  Lord  Bareacres,  whose  "pompossaty," 
as  described  in  the  last  Number,  seems  to  have  almost 
entirely  subsided.] 

We  then  come  to  the  following : — 

With  a  prowd  and  thankfle  Art,  I  coppy  off  this  morn- 
ing's Gyzett  the  foUoing  news : — 

"  *  Commission  signed  by  the  Lord  Lieutenant  of  the  County  of 
Diddlesex. 

"  '  James  Augustus  de  la  Pkiche,  Esquire,  to  be  Deputy 
Lieutenant. '  " 

" '  North  Diddlesex  Eegiment  of  Yeomanry  Cavalry. 

**  *  James  Augustus  de  la  Pluche,  Esquire,  to  be  Cap- 
tain, vice  Blowlord,  promoted. '  " 

"And  his  it  so?  Ham  I  indeed  a  landed  propriator — a 
Depparty  Leftnant — a  Capting?  May  I  hatend  the  Cort 
of  my  Sovring?  and  dror  a  sayber  in  my  country's  defens? 
I  wish  the  French  wood  land,  and  me  at  the  head  of  my 
squadring  on  my  hoss  Desparation.  How  I'd  extonish 
'em !  How  the  gals  will  stare  when  they  see  me  in  youni- 
fom?  How  Mary  Hann  would — but  nonsince!  I'm  hal- 
ways  thinking  of  that  pore  gal.  She's  left  Sir  John's. 
She  couldn't  abear  to  stay  after  I  went,  I've  heerd  say.  I 
hope  she's  got  a  good  place.  Any  summ  of  money  that 
would  sett  her  up  in  bisniss,  or  make  her  comf arable,  I'd 
come  down  with  like  a  mann.  I  told  my  granmother  so, 
who  sees  her,  and  rode  down  to  Healing  on  porpose  on  Des- 
paration to  leave  a  five  lb.  noat  in  anvylope.  But  she's 
sent  it  back,  sealed  with  a  thimbill." 

"  Tuesday, — Eeseavd  the  foUoing  letter  from  Lord  B  % 


DIAEY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  119 


rellatif  to  my  presntation  at  Cort  and  the  Youniform  I 
shall  wear  on  that  hospicious  seramony : — 

*^ '  My  dear  de  la  Pluche, — I  think  you  had  better  be 
presented  as  a  Deputy  Lieutenant.  As  for  the  Diddlesex 
Yeomanry,  I  hardly  know  what  the  uniform  is  now.  The 
last  time  we  were  out  was  in  1803,  when  the  Prince  of 
Wales  reviewed  us,  and  when  we  wore  French  grey  jackets, 
leathers,  red  morocco  boots,  crimson  pelisses,  brass  helmets 
with  leopard-skin  and  a  white  plume,  and  the  regulation 
pig-tail  of  eighteen  inches.  That  dress  will  hardly  answer 
at  present,  and  must  be  modified,  of  course.  We  were 
called  the  White  Feathers,  in  those  days.  For  my  part, 
I  decidedly  recommend  the  Deputy  Lieutenant. 

"  ^  I  shall  be  happy  to  present  you  at  the  Levee  and  at 
the  Drawing-room.  Lady  Bareacres  will  be  in  town  for 
the  13th,  with  Angelina,  who  will  be  presented  on  that 
day.  My  wife  has  heard  much  of  you,  and  is  anxious  to 
make  your  acquaintance. 

" '  All  my  people  are "  backward  with  their  rents :  for 
Heaven^ s  sake,  my  dear  fellow,  lend  me  five  hundred  and 
oblige, 

" '  Yours  very  gratefully, 

"  ^  Bareacres.' 

Note, — Bareacres  may  press  me  about  the  Depity  Left- 
nant — but  Vm  for  the  cavvlery.^' 


"  Jewly  will  always  be  a  sacrid  anniwussary  with  me. 
It  was  in  that  month  that  I  became  persnally  ecquaintid 
with  my  Prins  and  my  gracious  Sovarink. 

"Long  before  the  hospitious  event  acurd,  you  may 
emadgin  that  my  busm  was  in  no  triffling  flutter.  Sleaplis 
of  nights,  I  past  them  thinking  of  the  great  ewent — or  if 
igsosted  natur  did  clothes  my  highlids — the  eyedear  of  my 
waking  thoughts  pevaded  my  slummers.  Corts,  Erls, 
presntations,  Goldstix,  gracious  Sovarinx  menglmg  in  my 
dreembs  unceasnly.    I  blush  to  say  it  (for  humin  prisump- 

6— Vol.  ig 


120       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


sliii  never  surely  igseeded  that  of  my  wickid  wickid  vishn). 
One  night  I  actially  dremt  that  Her  E.H.  the  Princess 
Hallis  was  grown  up,  and  that  there  was  a  Cabinit  Counsel 
to  detummin  whether  her  &  was  to  be  bestoad  on  me  or  the 
Prins  of  Sax-Muffinhausen-Pumpen stein,  a  young  Prooshn 
or  Germing  zion  of  nobillaty.  I  ask  umly  parding  for 
this  hordacious  ideer. 

I  said,  in  my  fommer  remarx,  that  I  had  detummin ed 
to  be  presented  to  the  notus  of  my  reveared  Sovaring  in  a 
melintary  coschewm.  The  Court-shoots  in  which  Sivillians 
attend  a  Levy  are  so  uncomming  like  the — the — livries 
(ojus  wud !  1 8  to  put  it  down)  I  used  to  wear  before  enter- 
ing sosiaty,  that  I  couldn't  abide  the  notium  of  wearing 
one.  My  detummin ation  was  fumly  fixt  to  apeer  as  a  Yo- 
minry  Cavilry  Hoffiser,  in  the  galleant  younifom  of  the 
North  Diddlesex  Huzzas. 

"  Has  that  redgmint  had  not  been  out  sins  1803, 1  thought 
myself  quite  hotherized  to  make  such  halterations  in  the 
youniform  as  shuited  the  presnt  time  and  my  metured  and 
elygint  taste.  Pigtales  was  out  of  the  question.  Tites  I 
was  detummined.  to  mintain.  My  legg  is  praps  the  linist  pint 
about  me,  and  I  was  risolved  not  to  hide  it  under  a  booshle. 

"  I  phixt  on  scarlit  tites,  then,  imbridered  with  goold  as 
I  have  seen  Widdicomb  wear  them  at  Hashleys  when  me 
and  Mary  Hann  used  to  go  there.  Ninety-six  guineas 
worth  of  rich  goold  lace  and  cord  did  I  have  myhandering 
hall  hover  those  shoperb  inagspressables. 

"  Yellow  marocky  Heshn  boots,  red  eels,  goold  spurs  & 
goold  tassles  as  bigg  as  belpulls. 

"  Jackit — French  gray  and  silver  orings  f asings  &  cuphs, 
according  to  the  old  patn;  belt,  green  and  goold,  tight 
round  my  pusn,  &  settin  hoff  the  cemetry  of  my  figger  not 
disadvintajusly , 

"  A  huzza  paleese  of  pupple  velvit  &  sable  fir.    A  sayber 
of  Demaskus  steal,  and  a  sabertash  (in  which  I  kep  my 
~  Odiclone  and  imbridered  pocket  ankerchief),  kimpleat  my 
acooterments,  which  without  vannaty,  was,  I  flatter  my- 
self, uneak. 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  121 


But  the  crownding  triumpli  was  my  hat.  I  couldn't 
wear  a  cock  At.  The  huzzahs  don't  use  'em.  I  wouldn't 
wear  the  hojous  old  brass  Elmet  &  Leppardskin.  I  choas 
a  hat  which  is  dear  to  the  memry  of  hevery  Brittn ;  an  at 
which  was  inwented  by  my  Feeld  Marshle  and  adored 
Prins ;  an  At  which  vulgar  prejidis  &  Joaking  has  in  vane 
etempted  to  run  down.  I  chose  the  Halbert  At.^  I  didn't 
tell  Bareacres  of  this  egsabishn  of  loilty,  intending  to  sur- 
jpTize  him.  The  white  ploom  of  the  West  Diddlesex  Yo- 
mingry  I  fixt  on  the  topp  of  this  Shacko,  where  it  spread 
hout  like  a  shaving  brush. 

"  You  may  be  sure  that  bef or  the  f atle  day  arrived,  I 
didn't  niglect  to  practus  my  part  well;  and  had  sevral 
rehustles^  as  they  say. 

"  This  was  the  way.  I  used  to  dress  myself  in  my  full 
togs.  I  made  Fitzwarren,  my  boddy  servnt,  stand  at  the 
door,  and  figger  as  the  Lord  in  Waiting.  I  put  Mrs. 
Bloker,  my  laundress,  in  my  grand  harm  chair  to  reprasent 
the  horgust  pusn  of  my  Sovring — Frederick,  my  secknd 
man,  standing  on  her  left,  in  the  hattatude  of  an  illustrus 
Prins  Consort.  Hall  the  Candles  were  lighted.  '  Cajptain 
de  la  Pluche,  jpresented  by  Herl  Bareacres Fitzwarren,  my 
man,  igsclaimed,  as  adwancing  I  made  obasins  to  the 
Thrown.  Nealin  on  one  nee,  I  cast  a  glans  of  unhuttarable 
loilty  towards  the  Brittish  Crownd,  then  stepping  grace- 
fully hup  (my  Dimascus  Simiter  would  git  betwigst  my 
ligs,  in  so  doink,  which  at  fust  was  wery  disagreeble)  — 
rising  hup  grasefly,  I  say,  I  flung  a  look  of  manly  but 
respeckfl  hommitch  tords  my  Prins,  and  then  ellygntly 
ritreated  backards  out  of  the  Koil  Presents.  I  kep  my  4 
suvnts  hup  for  4  hours  at  this  gaym  the  night  bef  or  my 
presntation,  and  yet  I  was  the  fust  to  be  hup  with  the  sun- 
rice.    I  coodn't  sleep  that  night.    By  abowt  six  o'clock  in 

*  [A  shako  recently  invented  by  the  Prince  Consort  and  distributed 
to  the  army.  Thackeray  is  amiably  satirical  about  the  "Halbert 
At "  in  "  The  Ducal  Hat  for  Jenkins  "  {Punch,  January  13, 1844,  vol. 
vi.  p.  32),  reprinted  in  vol,  xiv.  of  this  edition:  "The  Book  of 
Snobs,"  etc.] 


122       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


the  morning  I  was  drest  in  my  full  uniform — and  I  didn't 
know  how  to  pass  the  interveaning  hours. 

"  ^  My  Granmother  hasn't  seen  me  in  full  phigg/  says  I. 
'  It  will  rejoice  that  pore  old  sole  to  behold  one  of  her 


race  so  suxesfle  in  life/  Has  I  ave  read  the  novvle  of 
'  Kennlworth/  that  the  Herl  goes  down  in  Cort  dress  and 
extoneshes  '  Hamy  Eobsart,'  I  will  go  down  in  hall  my 
splender  and  astownd  my  old  washywoman  of  a  Gran- 
mother. To  make  this  detummination ;  to  horder  my 
Broom ;  to  knock  down  Frederick  the  groomb  for  delaying 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  123 


to  bring  it ;  was  with  me  the  wuck  of  a  momint.  The  nex 
sor  as  galliant  a  cavyleer  as  hever  rode  in  a  cabb,  skower- 
ing  the  road  to  Healing. 

I  arrived  at  the  well-known  cottitch.  My  huncle  was 
habsent  with  the  cart ;  but  the  dor  of  the  humble  eboad 
stood  hopen,  and  I  passed  through  the  little  garding  where 
the  close  was  hanging  out  to  dry.  My  snowy  ploom  was 
ableeged  to  bend  under  the  lowly  porch,  as  I  hentered  the 
apartmint. 

"There  was  a  smell  of  tea  there — there's  always  a  smell 
of  tea  there — the  old  lady  was  at  her  Bohee  as  usual.  I 
advanced  tords  her;  but  ha!  phansy  my  extonnishment 
when  I  sor  Mary  Hann ! 

"  I  halmost  f aintid  with  himotion.  ^  Ho,  Jeames ! '  (she 
has  said  to  me  subsquintly)  ^  mortial  mann  never  looked  so 
bewtifle  as  you  did  when  you  arived  on  the  day  of  the 
Levy.    You  were  no  longer  mortial,  you  were  diwine! ' 

"E!  what  little  Justas  the  Hartist  has  done  to  my 
mannly  e tractions  in  the  groce  carriketure  he's  made  of 
me.'' 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  Nothing,  perhaps,  ever  created  so  great  a  sensashun  as 
my  hentrance  to  St.  Jeames' s,  on  the  day  of  the  Levy. 
The  Tuckish  Hambasdor  himself  was  not  so  much  re- 
marked as  my  shuperb  turn  out. 

"  As  a  Millentary  man,  and  a  North  Diddlesex  Huzza,  I 
was  resolved  to  come  to  the  ground  on  hossback,  I  had 
Desparation  phigd  out  as  a  charger,  and  got  4  Melentery 
dresses  from  Ollywell  Street,  in  which  I  drest  my  2  men 
(Fitzwarren,  hout  of  livry,  woodn't  stand  it),  and  2  fellers 
from  Eimles,  where  my  bosses  stand  at  livry.  I  rode  up 
St.  Jeames' s  Street,  with  my  4  Hadycongs — the  people 
huzzaying — the  gals  waving  their  hankerchers,  as  if  I  were 
a  Foring  Prins — hall  the  winders  crowdid  to  see  me  pass. 

"  The  guard  must  have  taken  me  for  a  Hempror  at  least, 
when  I  came,  for  the  drums  beat,  and  the  guard  turned 
out  and  seluted  me  with  presented  harms. 

"  What  a  momink  of  triumth  it  was !    I  sprung  myjes- 


124       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


tickly  from  Desperation.  I  gav  the  rains  to  one  of  my 
liorderlies,  and,  salewting  the  crowd,  I  past  into  the  presnts 
of  my  Most  Gracious  Mrs/^ 


"  You,  peraps,  may  igspect  that  I  should  narrait  at  lenth 
the  suckmstanzas  of  myhawjince  with  the  British  Crownd. 
But  I  am  not  one  who  would  gratafy  impitttnint  curaiosaty. 
Eispect  for  our  reckonized  instatewtions  is  my  fust  quallaty. 
I,  for  one,  will  dye  rallying  round  my  Thrown. 

"  Suffise  it  to  say,  when  I  stood  in  the  Horgust  Presents, 
— when  I  sor  on  the  right  &  of  my  Himperial  Sovring  that 
Most  Gracious  Prins,  to  admire  womb  has  been  the  chief 
Objick  of  my  life,  my  busum  was  seased  with  an  imotium 
which  my  Penn  rifewses  to  dixcribe — my  trembling  knees 
halmost  rifused  their  hoffis — I  reckleck  nothing  mor  until 
I  was  found  phainting  in  the  harms  of  the  Lord  Chamber- 
ling.  Sir  Kobert  Peel  apnd  to  be  standing  by  (I  knew  our 
wuthy  Primmier  by  Punch'^s  picturs  of  him,  igspecially  his 
ligs),  and  he  was  conwussing  with  a  man  of  womb  I  shall 
say  nothink,  but  that  he  is  a  Hero  of  100  fites,  and  hevery 
fite  he  fit  he  one,  Nead  I  say  that  I  elude  to  Harthur  of 
Wellingting?  I  introjuiced  myself  to  these  Jents,  and 
intend  to  improve  the  equaintance,  and  peraps  ast  Guvmmt 
for  a  Barnetcy. 

"  But  there  was  another  pusn  womb  on  this  droring-room 
I  fust  had  the  inagspressable  dalite  to  beold.  This  was 
that  Star  of  fashing,  that  Sinecure  of  neighbouring  i's,  as 
Milting  observes,  the  ecomplisht  Lady  Hangelina  Thistle- 
wood,  daughter  of  my  exlent  frend,  John  George  Godfrey 
de  Bullion  Thistlewood,  Earl  of  Bareacres,  Baron  South- 
down, in  the  Peeridge  of  the  L^nited  Kingdom,  Baron 
Haggismore,  in  Scotland,  K.T.,  Lord  Leftnant  of  the 
County  of  Diddlesex,  &c.  &c.  This  young  lady  was  with 
her  Noble  Ma,  when  I  was  kinducted  tords  her.  And 
surely  never  lighted  on  this  hearth  a  more  delightfle  vishn. 
In  that  gallixy  of  Bewty  the  Lady  Hangelina  was  the  fair- 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  125 


est  Star — in  that  reath  of  Loveliness  the  sweetest  Eose- 
budd!  Pore  Mary  Hann,  my  Art's  young  affeckshns  had 
been  senterd  on  thee ;  but  like  water  through  a  sivv,  her 
immidge  disapeared  in  a  momink,  and  left  me  intransd  in 
the  presnts  of  Hangelina ! 

"Lady  Bareacres  made  me  a  myjestick  bow — a  grand 
and  hawfle  pusnage  her  Ladyship  is,  with  a  E-oming  Nose, 
and  an  enawmus  ploom  of  Hostridge  phethers ;  the  fare 
Hangelina  smiled  with  a  sweetness  perfickly  bewhildring, 
and  said,  '  0,  Mr.  de  la  Pluche,  I'm  so  delighted  to  make 
your  acquaintance,  I  have  often  heard  of  you.' 

"'Who,'  says  I,  Mias  mentioned  my  insiggnifficknt 
igsistance  to  the  fair  Lady  Hangelina,  kel  honure  igstrame 
poor  mwaw  ;^  (for  you  see  I've  not  studdied  'Pelham' 
for  nothink,  and  have  lunt  a  few  French  phraces,  without 
which  no  Gent  of  fashn  speaks  now). 

"'  0,'  replies  my  lady,  '  it  was  papa  j&rst;  and  then  a 
very,  very  old  friend  of  yours.' 

Whose  name  is,'  says  I,  pusht  on  by  my  stoopid 
curawsaty  

"'Hoggins — Mary  Ann  Hoggins' — ansurred  my  lady 
(lalfing  phit  to  splitt  her  little  sides).  '  She  is  my  maid, 
Mr.  de  la  Pluche,  and  I'm  afraid  you  are  a  very  sad,  sad 
person.' 

"'  A  mere  baggytell,'  says  I.  '  In  fommer  days  I  was 
equainted  with  that  young  woman;  but  haltered  suckm- 
stancies  have  separated  us  for  hever,  and  mong  cure  is  irra- 
treevably  perdeiv  elsewhere. ' 

" '  Do  tell  me  all  about  it.  Who  is  it?  When  was  it? 
We  are  all  dying  to  know.' 

"'  Since  about  two  minnits,  and  the  Lady's  name  begins 
with  a  Hay  says  I,  looking  her  tendarly  in  the  face,  and 
conjring  up  hall  the  fassanations  of  my  smile. 

" '  Mr.  de  la  Pluche, '  here  said  a  gentleman  in  whiskers 
and  mistashes  standing  by,  '  hadn't  you  better  take  your 
spurs  out  of  the  Countess  of  Bareacres'  train? ' — '  Never 
mind  Mamma's  train '  (said  Lady  Hangelina)  ;  '  this  is  the 
great  Mr.  de  la  Pluche,  who  is  to  make  all  our  fortunes — 


126       DIARY  OP  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


yours  too.  Mr.  de  la  Pluche,  let  me  present  you  to  Cap- 
tain George  Silvertop.' — The  Capting  bent  just  one  jint  of 
his  back  very  slitely ;  I  retund  his  stare  with  equill  hotti- 
ness.  *  Go  and  see  for  Lady  Bareacres'  carridge,  Charles,' 
says  his  Lordship ;  and  vispers  to  me,  '  a  cousin  of  ours — 
a  poor  relation.'  So  I  took  no  notis  of  the  feller  when  hi 
came  back,  nor  in  my  subsquint  visits  to  Hill  Street,  where 
it  seems  a  knife  and  fork  was  laid  reglar  for  this  shabbj 
Capting." 

"  Thursday  Night, — 0  Hangelina,  Hangelina,  my  pashn 
for  you  hogments  daily!  I've  bean  with  her  two  the 
Hopra.  I  sent  her  a  bewtifle  Camellia  Jyponiky  from 
Covn  Garding,  with  a  request  she  would  wear  it  in  her 
raving  Air.  I  woar  another  in  my  butn-ole.  Evns,  what 
was  my  sattusfackshn  as  I  leant  hover  her  chair,  and 
igsammined  the  house  with  my  glas ! 

^^She  was  as  sulky  and  silent  as  pawsble,  however — 
would  scarcely  speek;  although  I  kijoled  her  with  a 
thowsnd  little  plesntries.  I  spose  it  was  because  that  wul- 
gar  raskle  Silvertop,  ivoocl  stay  in  the  box.  As  if  he  didn't 
know  (Lady  B.'s  as  deaf  as  a  poast  and  counts  for  nothink) 
that  people  sometimes  like  a  tatytatyJ^ 

Friday, — I  was  sleeples  all  night.  I  gave  went  to  my 
feelings  in  the  folloring  lines — there's  a  hair  out  of  Balfe's 
Hopera  that  she's  fond  of.    I  edapted  them  to  that  mellady. 

"  She  was  in  the  droring-room  alone  with  Lady  B.  She 
was  wobbling  at  the  pyanna  as  I  henfcered.  I  flung  the 
convasation  upon  mewsick ;  said  I  sung  myself,  (I've  ad 
lesns  lately  of  Signor  Twankydillo) ;  and,  on  her  rekwest- 
ing  me  to  f  aver  her  with  somethink,  I  bust  out  with  my 
poim : 

"^WHEN  MOONLIKE  OEE  THE  HAZURE  SEAS. 

"  *  When  moonhke  ore  the  hazure  seas 
In  soft  effulgence  swells, 
When  silver  jews  and  balmy  breaze 
Bend  down  the  Lily's  bells; 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  127 


When  calm  and  deap,  the  rosy  sleap 

Has  lapt  your  soal  in  dreems, 
B  Hangeline !    R  lady  mine ! 

Dost  thou  remember  Jeames  ? 

" '  I  mark  thee  in  the  Marble  All, 

Where  England's  loveliest  shine — 
I  say  the  fairest  of  them  hall 

Is  Lady  Hangeline. 
My  soul,  in  desolate  eclipse, 

With  recollection  teems — 
And  then  I  hask,  with  weeping  lips, 

Dost  thou  remember  Jeames? 

" '  Away !  I  may  not  tell  thee  hall 

This  soughring  heart  endures — 
There  is  a  lonely  sperrit-call 

That  Sorrow  never  cures  ; 
There  is  a  little,  little  Star, 

That  still  above  me  beams; 
It  is  the  Star  of  Hope — but  arl 

Dost  thou  remember  Jeames?  * 

"When  I  came  to  the  last  words,  ^  Dost  thou  remember 
Je-e-e-ams,  ^  I  threw  such  an  igspresshn  of  unuttrabble  ten- 
derniss  into  the  shake  at  the  hend,  that  Hangelina  could 
bare  it  no  more.  A  bust  of  uncumtrollable  emotium  seized 
her.  She  put  her  ankercher  to  her  face  and  left  the  room. 
I  heard  her  laffing  and  sobbing  histerickly  in  her  bedwor. 

"0  Hangelina — My  adord  one,  My  Arts  joy!     .  .  . 


"Bareacres,  me,  the  ladies  of  the  famly,  with  their 
sweet  Southdown,  B's  eldest  son,  and  George  Silvertop, 
the  shabby  Capting  (who  seames  to  git  leaf  from  his 
ridgmint  whenhever  he  likes),  have  beene  down  into  Did- 
dlesex  for  a  few  days,  enjying  the  spawts  of  the  f eald  there. 

^'Kever  having  done  much  in  the  gunning  line  (since 
when  a  hinnasent  boy,  me  and  Jim  Cox  used  to  go  out  at 
Healing,  and  shoot  sparrers  in  the  Edges  with  a  pistle) — I 
was  reyther  dowtfle  as  to  my  suxes  as  a  shot,  and  practusd 
for  some  days  at  a  stoughed  bird  in  a  shooting  gallery, 


128       DIAEY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


which  a  chap  histed  up  and  down  with  a  string.  I  sug- 
seaded  in  itting  the  hannimle  pretty  well.  I  bought 
Awker's  ^  Shooting  Guide/  two  double-guns  at  Mantings, 
and  salected  from  the  French  prints  of  f ashn  the  most  gaw- 
jus  and  ellygant  sporting  ebillyment.  A  lite  blue  velvet 
and  goold  cap,  woar  very  much  on  one  hear,  a  cravatt  of 
yaller  &  green  imbroidered  satting,  a  weskit  of  the  M^Grig- 
ger  plaid,  and  a  jacket  of  the  M'Whirter  tartn  (with  large 
motherapurl  butns,  engraved  with  coaches  &  osses,  and 
spawting  subjix),  high  leather  gayters,  and  marocky  shoot- 
ing shoes,  was  the  simple  hellymence  of  my  costewm,  and 
I  flatter  myself  set  hoff  my  figer  in  rayther  a  fayverable 
way.  I  took  down  none  of  my  own  pusnal  istablishmint 
excep  Fitzwarren,  my  hone  mann,  and  my  grooms,  with 
Desparation  and  my  curricle  osses  and  the  Fourgong  con- 
taining my  dressing-case  and  close. 

"I  was  he  very  where  introjuiced  in  the  county  as  the 
great  Railroad  Cappitlist,  who  was  to  make  Diddlesex  the 
most  prawsperous  districk  of  the  hempire.  The  squires 
prest  forrards  to  welcome  the  new  comer  amongst  'em;  and 
we  had  a  Hagricultral  Meating  of  the  Bareacres  tenantry, 
where  I  made  a  speech  droring  tears  from  hevery  i.  It 
was  in  compliment  to  a  layborer  who  had  brought  up  six- 
teen children,  and  lived  sixty  years  on  the  istate  on  seven 
bobb  a  week.  I  am  not  prowd,  though  I  know  my  station,  v 
I  shook  hands  with  that  mann  in  lavinder  kid  gloves.  I 
told  him  that  the  purshuit  of  hagriculture  was  the  noblist 
hockupations  of  humannaty:  I  spoke  of  the  yoming  of 
Hengland,  who  (under  the  command  of  my  hancisters)  had 
conquered  at  Hadjincourt  &  Cressy ;  and  I  gave  him  a  pair 
of  new  velveteen  inagspressables,  with  two  and  six  in  each 
pocket,  as  a  reward  for  three  score  years  of  labor.  Fitz- 
warren,  my  man,  brought  them  forrards  on  a  satting  cush- 
ing.  Has  I  sat  down,  defning  chears  selewted  the  horator ; 
the  band  struck  up  ^  The  Good  Old  English  Gentleman.'  I 
looked  to  the  ladies  galry;  my  Hangelina  waivd  her 
ankasher  and  kissed  her  & ;  and  I  sor  in  the  distans  that 
pore  Mary  Hann  eif ected  evidently  to  tears  by  my  ellaquints. 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  129 


"What  an  adwance  that  gal  as  made  since  she's  been  in 
Lady  Hangelina's  company!  Sins  she  wears  her  young 
lady's  igsploded  gownds  and  retired  caps  and  ribbings, 
there's  an  ellygance  abowt  her  which  is  pufficklt  admarable ; 
and  which,  haddid  to  her  own  natral  bewty  &  sweetniss, 
creates  in  my  boozum  serting  sensatiums.  .  .  .  Shor!  i 
mustn't  give  way  to  fealinx  unwurthy  of  a  member  of  the 
aristoxy.  What  can  she  be  to  me  but  a  mear  recklection 
•  — a  vishn  of  former  ears? 

"I'm  blest  if  I  didn  mistake  her  for  Hangelina  herself 
yesterday.  I  met  her  in  the  grand  CoUydore  of  Bareacres 
Castle!  I  sor  a  lady  in  a  melumcolly  hattitude  gacing 
outa-winder  at  the  setting  sun,  which  was  eluminating  the 
fair  parx  and  gardings  of  the  hancient  demean. 

"'Bewchus  Lady  Hangelina,'  says  I — 'a  penny  for 
your  Ladyship's  thoughts,'  says  I. 

" '  Ho,  Jeames!  Ho,  Mr.  La  Pluche! '  hansered  a  well- 
known  vice,  with  a  haxnt  of  sadnis  which  went  to  my  art. 
'  You  know  what  my  thoughts  are,  well  enough.  I  was 
thinking  of  happy,  happy  old  times,  when  both  of  us  were 
poo-poo-poor,'  says  Mary  Hann,  bursting  out  in  a  phit  of 
crying,  a  thing  I  can't  ebide.  I  took  her  &  and  tried  to 
comfit  her ;  I  pinted  out  the  diffrints  of  our  sitawashns ; 
igsplained  to  her  that  proppaty  has  its  jewties  as  well  as 
its  pre  vile  tches,  and  that  mt/  juty  clearly  was  to  marry 
into  a  noble  famly.  I  kep  on  talking  to  her  (she  sobbing 
and  going  hon  hall  the  time)  till  Lady  Hangelina  herself 
came  up — ^  The  real  Siming  Fewer,'  as  they  say  in  the 
play. 

"  There  they  stood  together — them  two  young  women. 
I  don't  know  which  is  the  ansamest,  I  coodn  help  compar- 
ing them ;  and  I  coodnt  help  comparing  myself  to  a  certing 
Hannimle  I've  read  of,  that  found  it  difficklt  to  make  a 
choice  betwigst  2  Bundles  of  A. 

"That  ungrateful  beest  Fitzwarren — my  oan  man — a 
feller  I've  maid  a  fortune  for — a  feller  I  give  100  lb.  per 
hannum  to ! — a  low  bred  Wallydyshamber !    He  must  be 


130       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


thinking  of  falling  in  love  too !  and  treating  me  to  his  im- 
perence. 

"He's  a  great  big  athlatic  feller — six  foot  i,  with  a  pair 
of  black  whiskers  like  air-brushes — with  a  look  of  a  Colo- 
nel in  the  Harmy — a  dangerous  pawmpus-spoken  raskle  I 
warrunt  you.  I  was  coming  ome  from  shuiting  this  hafter- 
noon — and  passing  through  Lady  Hangelina's  flour-garding, 
who  should  I  see  in  the  summerhouse,  but  Mary  Hann  pre- 
tending to  em  an  ankyshr  and  Mr.  Fitzwarren  paying  his 
cort  to  her. 

You  may  as  well  have  me,  Mary  Hann/  says  he. 
*  I've  saved  money.  We'll  take  a  public-house  and  I'll 
make  a  lady  of  you.  I'm  not  a  purse-proud  ungrateful 
fellow  like  Jeames — who^s  such  a  snob  ("such  a  snobb" 
was  his  very  words!)  that  I'm  ashamed  to  wait  on  him — 
who's  the  laughing-stock  of  all  the  gentry  and  the  house- 
keeper's room  too — try  a  man,^  says  he — '  don't  be  taking 
on  about  such  a  humbug  as  Jeames.' 

"Here  young  Joe  the  keaper's  sun,  who  was  carrying 
my  bagg,  bust  out  a-laffing — thereby  causing  Mr.  Fitz- 
warren to  turn  round  and  intarupt  this  polite  convasation. 

"  I  was  in  such  a  rage.  '  Quit  the  building,  Mary  Hann,' 
says  I  to  the  young  woman — '  and  you,  Mr.  Fitzwarren, 
have  the  goodness  to  remain.' 

"'I  give  you  warning,'  roars  he,  looking  black,  blue, 
yaller — all  the  colours  of  the  ranebo. 

" '  Take  hoff  your  coat,  you  imperent,  hungrateful  scoun- 
drl, '  says  I. 

"^  It's  not  your  livery,'  says  he. 

"'Peraps  you'll  understand  me,  when  I  take  off  my 
own,'  says  I,  unbuttoning  the  motherapurls  of  the  Mac- 
whirter  tartn.  '  Take  my  jackit,  Joe,'  says  I  to  the  boy, 
— and  put  myself  in  a  hattatude  about  which  there  was  no 
mistake. 

»  •  •  • 

"He's  2  stone  heavier  than  me — and  knows  the  use  of 
his  ands  as  well  as  most  men  5  but  in  a  fite,  blood's  every 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  131 


think;  the  Snobb  can't  stand  before  the  gentleman;  and 
I  should  have  killed  him,  I've  little  doubt,  but  they  came 
and  stopt  the  fite  betwigst  us  before  we'd  had  more  than  2 
rounds. 

punisht  the  raskle  tremenjously  in  that  time,  though; 
and  I'm  writing  this  in  my  own  sittn-room,  not  being  able 
to  come  down  to  dinner  on  account  of  a  black-eye  I've  got, 
which  is  sweld  up  and  disfiggrs  me  dredfl." 


"  On  account  of  the  hoffle  black  i  which  I  reseaved  in  my 
rangcounter  with  the  hinfimus  Fitzwarren,  I  kep  my  roomb 
for  sevral  days,  with  the  rose-coloured  curtings  of  the 
apartmint  closed,  so  as  to  form  an  agreeable  twilike ;  and 
a  light-bloo  satting  shayd  over  the  injard  pheacher.  My 
woons  was  thus  made  to  become  me  as  much  as  pawsable ; 
and  (has  the  Poick  well  observs,  '  Nun  but  the  Brayy 
desuvs  the  Fare  'J  I  cumsoled  myself  in  the  sasiaty  of  the 
ladies  for  my  tempory  disfiggarment. 

"  It  was  Mary  Hann  who  summind  the  House  and  put  an 
end  to  my  phisty coughs  with  Fitzwarren.  I  licked  him 
and  bare  him  no  malis ;  but  of  corse  I  dismist  the  imperent 
scoundrill  from  my  survis,  apinting  Adolphus,  my  page,  to 
his  post  of  confidenshle  Valley. 

Mary  Hann  and  her  young  and  lovely  Mrs.  kep  paying 
me  continyoul  visits  during  my  retiremint.  Lady  Han- 
gelina  was  halways  sending  me  messidges  by  her :  while 
my  exlent  friend.  Lady  Bareacres  (on  the  contry)  was  al- 
ways sending  me  toakns  of  affeckshn  by  Hangelina.  Now 
it  was  a  cooling  hi-lotium,  inwented  by  herself,  that  her 
Ladyship  would  perscribe — then,  agin,  it  would  be  a  booky 
of  flowers  (my  favrit  polly  hanthuses,  pellagoniums,  and 
jyponikys),  which  none  but  the  fair  &s  of  Hangelina  could 
dispose  about  the  chamber  of  the  hinvyleed.  Ho !  those 
dear  mothers !  when  they  wish  to  find  a  chans  for  a  galliant 
young  feller,  or  to  ixtablish  their  dear  gals  in  life,  what 
awpertunities  they  will  give  a  man!    You'd  have  phansied 


132       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


I  was  so  hill  (on  account  of  my  black  hi)  that  I  couldnt 
live  exsep  upon  chicking  and  spoon-meat  and  jellies,  and 
blemonges,  and  that  I  couldnt  eat  the  latter  dellixies 
(which  I  ebomminate  onternoo,  preferring  a  cut  of  beef  or 
muttn  to  hall  the  kickpshaws  of  France)  unless  Hangelina 
brought  them.  I  et  'em  and  sacrafised  myself  for  her 
dear  sayk. 

"  I  may  stayt  here  that  in  privit  convasations  with  old 
Lord  B.  and  his  son,  I  had  mayd  my  proposasls  for  Han- 
gelina and  was  acepted,  and  hoped  soon  to  be  made  the 
appiest  gent  in  Hengland. 

"'You  must  break  the  matter  gently  to  her,'  said  her 
hexlent  father.  '  You  have  my  warmest  wishes,  Mr.  de  la 
Pluche,  and  those  of  my  Lady  Bareacres,  but  I  am  not — 
not  quite  certain  about  Lady  Angelina's  feelings.  Girls 
are  wild  and  romantic.  They  do  not  see  the  necessity  of 
prudent  establishments,  and  I  have  never  yet  been  able 
to  make  Angelina  understand  the  embarrassments  of  her 
family.  These  silly  creatures  prate  about  love  and  a  cot- 
tage and  despise  advantages  which  wiser  heads  than  theirs 
know  how  to  estimate.' 

" '  Do  you  mean  that  she  aint  fassanated  by  me?  '  says  I, 
busting  out  at  this  outrayjus  ideer. 

" '  She  vAll  be,  my  dear  sir.  You  have  already  pleased 
her, — your  admirable  manners  must  succeed  in  captivating 
her,  and  a  fond  father's  wishes  will  be  crowned  on  the  day 
in  which  you  enter  our  family. ' 

^'^Recklect,  gents,'  says  I  to  the  2  lords, — ^  a  barging's 
a  barging — I'll  pay  hoff  Southdown' s  Jews,  when  I'm  his 
brother ;  as  a  straynger — (this  I  said  in  a  sarcastic  toan) 
— I  wouldnt  take  such  a  lihhaty.  When  I'm  your  suninlor 
I'll  treble  the  valyou  of  your  estayt.  I'll  make  your  in- 
cumbrinces  as  right  as  a  trivit,  and  restor  the  noble  ouse  of 
Bareacres  to  his  herly  splender.  But  a  pig  in  a  poak  is  not 
the  way  of  transacting  bisnis  imployed  by  Jeames  de  la 
Pluche,  Esquire.' 

"  And  I  had  a  right  to  speak  in  this  way.  I  was  one  of 
the  greatest  scrip-holders  in  Hengland  j  and  calculated  on 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  133 


a  kilossle  fortune.  All  my  shares  was  rising  immence. 
Every  poast  brot  me  noose  that  I  was  sevral  thowsnds 
richer  than  the  day  bef  or.  I  was  detumimnd  not  to  reerlize 
till  the  proper  time,  and  then  to  buy  istates ;  to  found  a 
new  famly  of  Delapluches,  and  to  alie  myself  with  the 
aristoxy  of  my  country. 

"  These  pints  I  reprasented  to  pore  Mary  Hann  hover  and 
hover  agin.  ^  If  you'd  been  Lady  Hangelina,  my  dear  gal,' 
says  I,  would  have  married  you;  and  why  don't  I? 
Because  my  dooty  prewents  me.  I'm  a  marter  to  dooty; 
and  yoUj  my  pore  gal,  must  cumsole  yorself  with  that 
ideer.' 

"  There  seemed  to  be  a  consperracy,  too,  between  that 
Silvertop  and  Lady  Hangelina  to  drive  me  to  the  same  pint. 
^  What  a  olucky  fellow  you  were,  Pluche,'  says  he  (he  was 
rayther  more  familiar  than  I  liked),  ^  in  your  fight  with 
Fitzwarren ! — to  engage  a  man  of  twice  your  strength  and 
science,  though  you  were  sure  to  be  beaten '  (this  is  an 
etroashous  f olsood :  I  should  have  finnisht  Fitz  in  10  min- 
utes), '  for  the  sake  of  poor  Mary  Hann!  That's  a  gener- 
ous felloWo  I  like  to  see  a  man  risen  to  eminence  like  you, 
having  his  heart  in  the  right  place.  When  is  to  be  the 
marriage,  my  boy? ' 

^^^Capting  S.,'  says  I,  *  my  marridge  consums  your  most 
umble  servnt  a  precious  sight  more  than  you; ' — and  I  gev 
him  to  understand  I  didn't  want  him  to  put  in  his  ore — I 
wasn't  afrayd  of  his  whiskers,  I  prommis  you,  Capting,  as 
he  was.  I'm  a  British  Lion,  I  am ;  as  brayv  as  Bonypert, 
Hannible,  or  Holiver  Crummle,  and  would  face  bagnits  as 
well  as  an  Evy  Drigbon  of  'em  all. 

"  Lady  Hangelina,  too  igspawstulated  in  her  hartfl  way. 
'  Mr.  de  la  Pluche  (seshee),  why,  why  press  this  point? 
You  can't  suppose  that  you  will  be  happy  with  a  person 
like  me? ' 

" '  I  adoar  you,  charming  girl ! '  says  1.  '  Kever,  never 
go  to  say  any  such  thing.' 

^  You  adored  Mary  Ann  first ; '  answers  her  Ladyship ; 
*  you  can't  keep  your  eyes  off  her  now.    If  any  man  courts 


134       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


her  you  grow  so  jealous  that  you  begm  beating  him.  You 
will  break  the  girPs  heart  if  you  don't  marry  her,  and  per- 
haps some  one  else's — but  you  don't  mind  that.^ 

Break  yours,  you  adoarible  creature!  I'd  die  first! 
And  as  for  Mary  Hann,  she  will  git  over  it;  people's  arts 
aint  broakn  so  easy.  Once  for  all,  suckmstances  is  changed 
betwigst  me  and  er.  It's  a  pang  to  part  with  her '  (says  I, 
my  fine  hi's  filling  with  tears),  'but  part  from  her  I  must.' 

"  It  was  curius  to  remark  abowt  that  singlar  gal,  Lady 
Hangelina,  that  melumcoUy  as  she  was  when  she  was  talk- 
ing to  me,  and  ever  so  disml, — yet  she  kep  on  lafiing  every 
minute  like  the  juice  and  all. 

'  What  a  sacrifice ! '  says  she,  '  it's  like  Napoleon  giving 
up  Josephine.  What  anguish  it  must  cause  to  your  sus- 
ceptible heart ! ' 

"'  It  does,'  says  I — '  Hagnies! '    (Another  laff.) 

"'And  if — if  I  don't  accept  you — you  will  invade  the 
States  of  the  Emperor,  my  Papa,  and  I  am  to  be  made  the 
sacrifice  and  the  occasion  of  peace  between  you ! ' 

"'  I  don't  know  what  you're  eluding  to  about  Joseyfeen 
and  Hemperors  your  Pas,  but  I  know  that  your  Pa's 
estate  is  over  hedaneers  morgidged;  that  if  some  one  don't 
elp  him,  he's  no  better  than  an  old  pawper;  that  he  owes 
me  a  lot  of  money;  and  that  I'm  the  man  that  can  sell  him 
up  hoss  &  foot;  or  set  him  up  ^gen—thafs  what  I  know, 
Lady  Angelina,'  says  I,  with  a  hair  as  much  as  to  say, 
'  Put  that  in  your  ladyship's  pipe,  and  smoke  it.' 

"And  so  I  left  her,  and  nex  day  a  serting  fashnable 
paper  ennounced — 

"'Makriage  In  High  Life. — We  hear  that  a  matrimonial  union 
is  on  the  tapis  between  a  gentleman  who  has  made  a  colossal  fortune 
in  the  Railway  World,  and  the  only  daughter  of  a  noble  earl,  whose 
estates  are  situated  in  D-ddles-x.  An  early  day  is  fixed  for  this  in- 
teresting event.  * " 


"Contry  to  my  expigtations  (but  when  or  ow  can  we 
reckn  upon  the  fealinx  of  wimming?)  Mary  Hann  didn't 
seem  to  be  much  ef  ected  by  the  hideer  of  my  marridge  with 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  135 


Hangelinar.  I  was  rayther  disapinted  peraps  that  the 
fickle  youug  gal  reckumsiled  herself  so  easy  to  giving  me 
hup,  for  we  Gents  are  creechers  of  vannaty  after  all,  as 
well  as  those  of  the  hopsit  seeks ;  &  betwigst  you  &  me 
there  ivas  mominx,  when  I  al- 
most whisht  that  I'd  been  borne 
a  Myommidn  or  Turk,  when 
the  Lor  would  have  permitted 
me  to  marry  both  these  sweet 
beinx,  wherehas  I  was  now  con- 
demd  to  be  appy  with  ony  one. 

"  Mean  wild  every-think  went 
on  very  agreeble  betwigst  me 
and  my  defianced  bride.  When 
we  came  back  to  town  I  kem- 
ishnd  Mr.  Showery  the  great 
Hoctionear  to  look  out  for  a 
town  manshing  sootable  for  a 
gent  of  my  quallaty.  I  got 
from  the  Erald  Hoffis  (not  The 
Mawning  Erald — no,  no,  I'm 
not  such  a  Mough  as  to  go  there 
for  ackrit  infamation),  an  ac- 
count of  my  famly,  my  harms 
&  pedigry. 

"  I  horderd  in  Long  Hacre, 
three  splendid  equipidges,  on 
which  my  arms  and  my  adord 
wife's  Avas  drawn  &  quartered; 
and  I  got  portricks  of  me  and 

her  paynted  by  the  sellabrated  Mr.  Shalloon,  being  resolved 
to  be  the  gentleman  in  all  things,  and  knowing  that  my 
character  as  a  man  of  f ashn  wasn't  compleat  unless  I  sat  to 
that  dixtinguished  Hartist.  My  likenis  I  presented  to 
Hangelina.  Its  not  considered  flattring — here  it  is — and 
though  she  parted  with  it,  as  you  will  hear,  mighty  wil- 
lingly, there's  07ie  young  lady  (a  thousnd  times  handsomer) 
that  values  it  as  the  happle  of  her  hi. 


136       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


"  Would  any  man  beleave  that  this  picture  was  soald  at 
my  sale  for  about  a  twenty-fifth  part  of  what  it  cost  me? 
It  was  bought  in  by  Maryhann,  though : — '  0  dear  Jeames/ 
she  says  often  (kissing  of  it  &  pressing  it  to  her  art),  '  it 
isn't  \  ansum  enough  for  you,  and  hasn't  got  your  angel- 
lick  smile  and  the  igspreshn  of  your  dear  dear  i's.' 

"Hangelina's  pictur  was  kindly  presented  to  me  by 
Countess  B.,  her  mamma,  though  of  course  I  paid  for  it. 
It  was  engraved  for  '  The  Book  of  Bewty '  this  year;  and 
here  is  a  proof  of  the  etching : — 


^^With  such  a  perfusion  of  ringlits  I  should  scarcely 
have  known  her — but  the  ands,  feat,  and  i's  is  very  like. 
She  was  painted  in  a  gitar  supposed  to  be  singing  one  of 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  137 


my  little  melladies ;  and  her  brother  Southdown,  who  is  one 
of  the  New  England  poits,  wrote  the  f oUering  stanzys  about 
her : — 

LINES  UPON  MY  SISTER'S  PORTRAIT. 

By  the  Lord  Southdown. 

The  castle  towers  of  Bareacres  are  fair  upon  the  lea, 

Where  the  cliffs  of  bonny  Diddlesex  rise  up  from  out  the  sea: 

I  stood  upon  the  donjon  keep  and  view'd  the  country  o'er, 

I  saw  the  lands  of  Bareacres  for  fifty  miles  or  more. 

I  stood  upon  the  donjon  keep — it  is  a  sacred  place, — 

Where  floated  for  eight  hundred  years  the  banner  of  my  race ; 

Argent,  a  dexter  sinople,  and  gules  an  azure  field, 

There  ne'er  was  nobler  cognizance  on  knightly  warrior's  shield. 

The  first  time  England  saw  the  shield  'twas  round  a  Norman  neck, 

On  board  a  ship  from  Valery,  King  William  was  on  deck. 

A  Norman  lance  the  colours  wore,  in  Hastings'  fatal  fray — 

St.  Willibald  for  Bareacres !  'twas  double  gules  that  day ! 

O  Heaven  and  sweet  St.  Willibald !  in  many  a  battle  since 

A  loyal-hearted  Bareacres  has  ridden  by  his  Prince ! 

At  Acre  with  Plantagenet,  with  Edward  at  Poitiers, 

The  pennon  of  the  Bareacres  was  foremost  on  the  spears ! 

*Twas  pleasant  in  the  battle-shock  to  hear  our  war-cry  ringing: 
O !  grant  me,  sweet  Saint  Willibald,  to  listen  to  such  singing ! 
Three  hundred  steel-clad  gentlemen,  we  drove  the  foe  before  us, 
And  thirty  score  of  British  bows  kept  twanging  to  the  chorus ! 
O  knights,  my  noble  ancestors !  and  shall  I  never  hear 
Saint  Willibald  for  Bareacres  through  battle  ringing  clear? 
I'd  cut  me  off  this  strong  right  hand  a  single  hour  to  ride, 
And  strike  a  blow  for  Bareacres,  my  fathers,  at  your  side ! 

Dash  down,  dash  down,yon  Mandolin,  beloved  sister  mine! 
Those  blushing  lips  may  never  sing  the  glories  of  our  line : 
Our  ancient  castles  echo  to  the  clumsy  feet  of  churls, 
The  spinning  Jenny  houses  in  the  mansion  of  our  Earls. 
Sing  not,  sing  not,  my  Angelina !  in  days  so  base  and  vile, 
'Twere  sinful  to  be  happy,  'twere  sacrilege  to  smile. 
I'll  hie  me  to  my  lonely  hall,  and  by  its  cheerless  hob 
I'll  muse  on  other  days,  and  wish — and  wish  I  were — A  Snob. 

"All  young  Hengland,  I'm  told,  considers  the  poim 
bewtifle.    They're  always  writing  about  battleaxis  and 


138       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


shivvlery,  these  young  chaps ;  but  the  ideer  of  Southdown 
in  a  shoot  of  armer,  and  his  cuttin  hoff  his  *  strong  right 
hand/  is  rayther  too  good;  the  feller  is  about  5  fit  hi, — as 
rickety  as  a  babby,  with  a  vaist  like  a  gal, — and  though  he 
may  have  the  art  and  curridge  of  a  Bengal  tyger,  I'd  back 
my  smallest  cab-boy  to  lick  him, — that  is,  if  I  acZ  a  cab- 
boy.    But  io!  my  cab  days  is  over,'^ 


"  Be  still  my  hagnizing  Art !  I  now  am  about  to  hum- 
f oald  the  dark  payges  of  the  Istry  of  my  life ! 

"My  frends!  you've  seen  me  ither2  in  the  full  kerear  of 

-  Eortn,  prawsprus  but  not  hover  prowd  of  my  prawsperraty ; 

-  not  dizzy  though  mounted  on  the  haypix  of  Good  Luck — 
feasting  hall  the  great  (like  the  Good  Old  Henglish  Gent 
in  the  song,  which  he  has  been  my  moddle  and  igsample 
through  life),  but  not  forgitting  the  small — No,  my  be- 
ayviour  to  my  grandmother  at  Healing  shows  that.  I  bot 
her  a  new  donkey  cart  (what  the  French  call  a  cart-blansh), 
and  a  handsome  set  of  peggs  for  anging  up  her  linning, 
and  treated  Huncle  Jim  to  a  new  shoot  of  close,  which  he 

_  ordered  in  St.  Jeames's  Street,  much  to  the  estonishment 
of  my  Snyder  there,  namely  an  olif -green  velvyteen  jackit 
and  smalclose,  and  a  crimsn  plush  weskcoat  with  glas- 
buttns.  These  pints  of  genarawsaty  in  my  disposishn  I 
never  should  have  eluded  to,  but  to  show  that  I  am  natu- 
rally of  a  noble  sort ;  and  have  that  kind  of  galliant  carridge 
which  is  equel  to  either  good  or  bad  forting. 

"  What  was  the  substus  of  my  last  chapter?  In  that 
everythink  was  prepayred  for  my  marridge — the  consent  of 
the  parents  of  my  Hangelina  was  gaynd,  the  lovely  gal 
herself  was  ready  (as  I  thought)  to  be  led  to  Himing's 
halter — the  trosso  was  bordered, — the  wedding  dresis  were 
being  phitted  hon, — a  weddin-kake  weighing  half  a  tunn 
was  a  gettn  reddy  by  Messrs.  Gunter,  of  Buckley  Square ; 
there  was  such  an  account  for  Shantilly  and  Honiton  laces 
as  would  have  staggered  hennyboddy  (I  know  they  did  the 
Commissioner  when  I  came  hup  for  my  Stiffikit)  and  has 

V  \ 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  139 


for  Injar-shavvls  I  bawt  a  dozen  sich  fine  ones  as  never  was 
given  away — no  not  by  His  Iness  the  Injan  Prins  Jugger- 
naut Tygore.  The  juils  (a  pearl  and  dimind  shoot)  were 
from  the  extablishmint  of  Mysurs  Storr  and  Mortimer. 
The  honey-moon  I  intended  to  pass  in  a  continentle  excus- 
sion,  and  was  in  treaty  for  the  ouse  at  Halberd-gate  (hopsit 
Mr.  Hudson's)  as  my  town-house.  I  waited  to  cunclude 
the  putchis  untie  the  Share-Markit  which  was  rayther  de- 
prest  (oing  I  think  not  so  much  to  the  atax  of  the  misrab- 
ble  Times,  as  to  the  prodidjus  flams  of  The  Morning  Erald) 
was  restored  to  its  elthy  toan.  I  wasn't  going  to  part  with 
scrip  which  was  20  premium  at  2  or  3 ;  and  bein  confidnt 
that  the  Markit  would  rally,  had  bought  very  largely  for 
the  two  or  three  new  accounts. 

"This  will  explane  to  those  unfortnight  traydsmen  to 
womb  I  gayv  orders  for  a  large  igstent  ow  it  was  that  I 
couldn^t  jjay  their  accounts.  /  am  the  soal  of  onour — but 
no  gent  can  pay  when  he  has  no  money: — it's  not  my  fault 
if  that  old  screw  Lady  Bareacres  cabbidged  three  hundred 
yards  of  lace,  and  kep  back  4  of  the  biggest  diminds  and 
seven  of  the  largist  Lijar  Shawls — it's  not  my  fault  if  the 
tradespeople  didn  git  their  goods  back,  and  that  Lady  B. 
declared  they  were  lost.  I  began  the  world  afresh  with  the 
close  on  my  back,  and  thirteen  and  six  in  money,  concealing 
no  think,  giv^ing  huj)  he  very  think,  Onist  and  undismayed, 
and  though  beat,  with  pluck  in  me  still,  and  ready  to  begin 
agin. 

"  Well — it  was  the  day  before  that  apinted  for  my 
Unium.  The  Ringdove  steamer  was  lying  at  Dover  ready 
to  carry  us  hoff .  The  Bridle  apartmince  had  been  hordered 
at  Salt  Hill,  and  subsquintly  at  Balong  sur  Mare — the  very 
table  cloth  was  laid  for  the  weddn  brexfst  in  111  Street, 
and  the  Bride's  Eight  Reverend  Huncle,  the  Lord  Bishop 
of  Bullocksmithy,  had  arrived  to  sellabrayt  our  unium. 
All  the  papers  were  full  of  it.  Crowds  of  the  fashnable 
world  went  to  see  the  trooso ;  and  admire  the  Carridges  in 
Long  Hacre.  Our  travleng  charret  (light  bloo  lined  with 
pink  satting,  and  vermillium  and  goold  weals)  was  the 


140       DIAEY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


hadmaration  of  all  for  quiet  ellygens.  We  were  to  travel 
only  4,  viz.,  me,  my  lady,  my  vally,  and  Mary  Hann  as 
famdyshamber  to  my  Hangelina.  Far  from  opqsing  our 
match,  this  worthy  gal  had  quite  givn  into  it  of  late,  and 
laught  and  joakt,  and  enjoyd  our  plans  for  the  fewter 
igseedinkly. 

"I'd  left  my  lovely  Bride  very  gay  the  night  before — 
aving  a  multachewd  of  bisniss  on,  and  Stockbrokers^  & 
bankers'  accounts  to  settle:  atsettrey  atsettrey.  It  was 
layt  befor  I  got  these  in  border:  my  sleap  was  feavrish,  as 
most  mens  is  when  they  are  going  to  be  marrid  or  to  be 
hanged.  I  took  my  chocklit  in  bed  about  one ;  tride  on  my 
wedding  close,  and  found  as  ushle  that  they  became  me  ex- 
ceedingly. 

"  One  thing  distubbed  my  mind — two  weskts  had  been 
sent  home.  A  blush- white  satting  and  gold,  and  a  kinary 
coloured  tabbinet  imbridered  in  silver; — which  should  I 
wear  on  the  hospicious  day?  This  hadgitated  and  perplext 
me  a  good  deal.  I  detummined  to  go  down  to  Hill  Street 
and  cumsult  the  Lady  whose  wishis  were  henceforth  to  be 
my  hallinhall:  and  wear  whichever  she  phixt  on. 

"  There  was  a  great  bussel  and  distubbans  in  the  Hall  in 
111  Street :  which  I  etribyouted  to  the  eproaching  event. 
The  old  porter  stared  most  uncommon  when  I  kem  in — 
the  footman  who  was  to  enounce  me  laft  I  thought — I  was 
going  upstairs — 

"^Her  ladyship's  not — not  at  Aome,"  says  the  man; 
"and  my  lady's  hill  in  bed.' 

Git  lunch,'  says  I,  '  I'll  wait  till  Lady  Hangelina  re- 
turns.' 

"  At  this  the  feller  loox  at  me  for  a  momint  with  his 
cheex  blown  out  like  a  bladder,  and  then  busts  out  in  a 
reglar  guffau !  the  porter  jined  in  it,  the  impident  old  raskle : 
and  Thomas  says,  slapping  his  and  on  his  thy,  without 
the  least  respect — 'I  say^  Huffy ^  old  hoy !  Isn't  this  a 
good  un  ? ' 

" '  Wadyermean,  you  infunnle  scoundrel,'  says  I,  'hol- 
laring and  laffing  at  me?  ^ 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  141 


0  here's  Miss  Mary  Hann  coming  up,'  says  Thomas, 
^  ask  her^ — and  indeed  there  came  my  little  Mary  Hann 
tripping  down  the  stairs — her  &s  in  her  pockits ;  and  when 
she  saw  me  she  began  to  blush  &  look  hod  &  then  to  grin 
too. 

^^^In  the  name  of  Imperence/  says  I,  rushing  on 
Thomas,  and  collaring  him  j&t  to  throttle  him, — '  no  raskle 
of  a  flunky  shall  insult  me^^  and  I  sent  him  staggerin  up 
against  the  porter,  and  both  of  'em  into  the  hall-chair  with 
a  flopp — when  Mary  Hann,  jumping  down,  says  '  0  James! 
O  Mr.  Plush !  read  this ' — and  she  pulled  out  a  billy  doo. 

"I  reckanized  the  and- writing  of  Hangelina.^' 


"Deseatful  Hangelina's  billy  ran  as  follows: — 
'  I  had  all  along  hoped  that  you  would  have  relin- 
quished pretensions  which  you  must  have  seen  were  so  dis- 
agreeable to  me ;  and  have  spared  me  the  painful  necessity  . 
of  the  step  which  I  am  compelled  to  take.  For  a  long  time  I 
could  not  believe  my  parents  were  serious  in  wishing  to  sac- 
rifice me,  but  have  in  vain  entreated  them  to  spare  me.  I 
cannot  undergo  the  shame  and  misery  of  a  union  with  you. 
To  the  very  last  hour  I  remonstrated  in  vain,  and  only 
now  anticipate,  by  a  few  hours,  my  departure  from  the 
home  from  which  they  themselves  were  about  to  expel  me. 

" '  When  you  receive  this,  I  shall  be  united  to  the  person 
to  whom,  as  you  are  aware,  my  heart  was  given  long  ago. 
My  parents  are  already  informed  of  the  step  I  have  taken. 
And  I  have  my  own  honour  to  consult,  even  before  their 
benefit;  they  will  forgive  me,  I  hope  and  feel,  before 
long. 

" '  As  for  yourself,  may  I  not  hope  that  time  will  calm 
your  exquisite  feelings  too?  I  leave  Mary  Ann  behind  to 
console  you.  She  admires  you  as  you  deserve  to  be  ad- 
mired, and  with  a  constancy  which  I  entreat  you  to  try  and 
imitate.  Do,  my  dear  Mr.  Plush,  try — for  the  sake  of 
your  sincere  friend  and  admirer.  A. 


142       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


^^*P.S.  I  leave  the  wedding  dresses  behind  for  her; 
the  diamonds  are  beautiful,  and  will  become  Mrs.  Plush 
admirably.^ 

This  was  hall ! — Conf ewshn !  And  there  stood  the  foot- 
men sniggerin,  and  that  hojous  Mary  Ann  half  a  cryin,  half 
a  lafRng  at  me!  '  Who  has  she  gone  hoff  with? '  rors  I, 
and  Mary  Hann  (smiling  with  one  hi)  just  touched  the  top 
of  one  of  the  Johns'  canes  who  was  goin  out  with  the  noats 
to  put  hoff  the  brekf St.    It  was  Silvertop  then ! 

I  bust  out  of  the  house  in  a  stayt  of  diamoniacal  igsite- 
ment ! 

^^The  storry  of  that  iloapmint  I  have  no  art  to  tell. 
Here  it  is  from  The  Morning  Tatler  newspaper. '' 

Elopement  in  High  Life. 

THE  ONLY  authentic  ACCOUNT. 

"The  neighbourhood  of  Berkeley  Square,  and  the  whole 
fashionable  world,  has  been  thrown  into  a  state  of  the  most 
painful  excitement  by  an  event  which  has  just  placed  a 
noble  family  in  great  perplexity  and  affliction. 

"  It  has  long  been  known  among  the  select  nobility  and 
gentry  that  a  marriage  was  on  the  tapis  between  the  only 
daughter  of  a  Noble  Earl,  and  a  Gentleman  whose  rapid 
fortunes  m  the  railway  world  have  been  the  theme  of  gen- 
eral remark.  Yesterday's  paper,  it  was  supposed  in  all 
human  probability,  would  have  contained  an  account  of 
the  marriage  of  James  De  la  Pl-che,  Esq.,  and  the  Lady 

Angelina  ,  daughter  of  the  Eight  Honorable  the  Earl 

of  B-re-cres.  The  preparations  for  this  ceremony  were 
complete;  we  had  the  pleasure  of  inspecting  the  rich  trous- 
seau (prepared  by  Miss  Twiddler,  of  Pall  Mall) ;  the  mag- 
nificent jewels  from  the  establishment  of  Messrs.  Storr  and 
Mortimer;  the  elegant  marriage  cake,  which  already  cut 
up  and  portioned,  is,  alas !  not  destined  to  be  eaten  by  the 
friends  of  Mr.  De  la  Pl-che;  the  superb  carriages,  and 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  143 


magnificent  liveries  which  had  been  provided  in  a  style  of 
the  most  lavish  yet  tasteful  sumptuosity.  The  Eight  Eev- 
erend  the  Lord  Bishop  of  Bullocksmithy  had  arrived  in 
town  to  celebrate  the  nuptials,  and  is  staying  at  Mivart's. 
What  must  have  been  the  feelings  of  that  venerable  prelate, 
what  those  of  the  agonised  and  noble  parents  of  the  Lady 

Angelina  when  it  was  discovered,  on  the  day  previous 

to  the  wedding,  that  her  Ladyship  had  fled  the  paternal 
mansion !  To  the  venerable  Bishop  the  news  of  his  noble 
niece's  departure  might  have  been  fatal;  we  have  it  from 
the  waiters  of  Mivart's  that  his  Lordship  was  about  to 
indulge  in  the  refreshment  of  turtle  soup  when  the  news 
was  brought  to  him ;  immediate  apoplexy  was  apprehended ; 
but  Mr.  Macann,  the  celebrated  Surgeon,  of  Westminster, 
was  luckily  passing  through  Bond  Street  at  the  time,  and 
being  promptly  called  in,  bled  and  relieved  the  exemplary 
patient.  His  Lordship  will  return  to  the  Palace,  Bullock- 
smithy, to-morrow. 

The  frantic  agonies  of  the  Eight  Honorable  the  Earl  of 
Bareacres  can  be  imagined  by  every  paternal  heart.  Far 
be  it  from  us  to  disturb — impossible  is  it  for  us  to  describe 
their  noble  sorrow.  Our  reporters  have  made  inquiries 
every  ten  minutes  at  the  EarPs  mansion  in  Hill  Street, 
regarding  the  health  of  the  Noble  Peer  and  his  incompara- 
ble Countess.  They  have  been  received  with  a  rudeness 
which  we  deplore  but  pardon.  One  was  threatened  with 
a  cane;  another,  in  the  pursuit  of  his  official  inquiries, 
was  saluted  with  a  pail  of  water ;  a  third  gentleman  was 
menaced  in  a  pugilistic  manner  by  his  Lordship's  porter; 
but  being  of  the  Irish  ISTation,  a  man  of  spirit  and  sinew 
and  Master  of  Arts  of  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  the  gentle- 
man of  our  establishment  confronted  the  menial,  and  hav- 
ing severely  beaten  him,  retired  to  a  neighbouring  hotel 
much  frequented  by  the  domestics  of  the  surrounding  nobil- 
ity, and  there  obtained  what  we  believe  to  be  the  most 
ACCURATE  PARTICULARS  of  this  extraordinary  occurrence. 

"  George  Frederick  Jennings,  third  footman  in  the  estab- 
lishment of  Lord  Bareacres,  stated  to  our  emjploye  as  fol- 

7  —Vol.  19 


144       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


lows: — Lady  Angelina  has  been  promised  to  Mr.  De  la 
Pluche  for  near  six  weeks.  She  never  could  abide  that 
gentleman.  He  was  the  laughter  of  all  the  servants'  hall. 
Previous  to  his  elevation  he  had  himself  been  engaged  in  a 
domestic  capacity.  At  that  period  he  had  offered  marriage 
to  Mary  Ann  Hoggins,  who  was  living  in  the  quality  of 
ladies'  maid  in  the  family  where  Mr.  De  la  P.  was  em- 
ployed. Miss  Hoggins  became  subsequently  ladies'  maid 
to  Lady  Angelina — the  elopement  was  arranged  between 
those  two.  It  was  Miss  Hoggins  who  delivered  the  note 
which  informed  the  bereaved  Mr.  PlusL  of  his  loss. 

"  Samuel  Buttons,  page  to  the  Eight  Honorable  the  Earl 
of  Bareacres,  was  ordered  on  Friday  forenoon  at  eleven 
o'clock  to  fetch  a  cabriolet  from  the  stand  in  Davies  Street. 
He  selected  the  cab,  No.  19,796,  driven  by  George  Greg- 
ory Macarty,  a  one-eyed  man  from  Clonakilty,  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Cork,  Ireland  (of  whom  more  anon),  and 
waited,  according  to  his  instructions,  at  the  corner  of  Berke- 
ley Square  with  the  vehicle.  His  young  lady,  accompanied 
by  her  maid.  Miss  Mary  Ann  Hoggins,  carrying  a  band- 
box, presently  arrived,  and  entered  the  cab  with  the  box : 
what  were  the  contents  of  that  box  we  have  never  been 
able  to  ascertain.  On  asking  her  ladyship  whether  he 
should  order  the  cab  to  drive  in  any  particular  direction,  he 
was  told  to  drive  to  Madame  Crinoline's,  the  eminent  milli- 
ner, in  Cavendish  Square.  On  requesting  to  know  whether 
he  should  accompany  her  ladyship,  Buttons  was  peremp- 
torily ordered  by  Miss  Hoggins  to  go  about  his  business. 

"  Having  now  his  clue,  our  reporter  instantly  went  in 
search  of  cab  19,796,  or  rather  of  the  driver  of  that  vehi- 
cle, who  was  discovered  with  no  small  difficulty  at  his  resi- 
dence, Whetstone  Park,  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  where  he 
lives  with  his  family  of  nine  children.  Having  received 
two  sovereigns,  instead  doubtless  of  two  shillings  (his 
regular  fare,  by  the  way,  would  have  been  only  one  and 
eightpence),  Macarty  had  not  gone  out  with  the  cab  for  the 
two  last  days,  passing  them  in  a  state  of  almost  ceaseless 
intoxication.    His  replies  were  very  incoherent  in  answer 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  145 


to  the  queries  of  our  reporter;  and,  had  not  that  gentleman 
been  himself  a  compatriot,  it  is  probable  he  would  have  re- 
fused altogether  to  satisfy  the  curiosity  of  the  public. 

At  Madame  Crinoline's,  Miss  Hoggins  quitted  the  car- 
riage, and  a  gentleman  entered  it.  Macarty  describes  him 
as  a  very  clever  gentleman  (meaning  tall)  with  black  mous- 
taches, Oxford-grey  trousers,  and  black  hat  and  a  pea-coat. 
He  drove  the  couple  to  the  Euston  Square  Station,  and 
there  left  them.  How  he  employed  his  time  subsequently 
we  have  stated. 

^^At  the  Euston  Square  Station,  the  gentleman  of  our 
establishment  learned  from  Frederick  Corduroy,  a  porter 
there,  that  a  gentleman  answering  the  above  description 
had  taken  places  to  Derby.  We  have  despatched  a  con- 
fidential gentleman  thither,  by  a  special  train,  and  shall 
give  his  reports  in  a  second  edition. 

Second  Edition. 

FROM  our  reporter. 

Newcastle;  Monday. 

"  ^  I  am  just  arrived  at  this  ancient  town,  at  the  Elephant 
and  Cucumber  Hotel.  A  party  travelling  under  the  name 
of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jones,  the  gentleman  wearing  moustaches, 
and  having  with  them  a  blue  band-box,  arrived  by  the  train 
two  hours  before  me,  and  have  posted  onwards  to  Scotland, 
I  have  ordered  four  horses,  and  write  this  on  the  hind  boot, 
as  they  are  putting  to.' 

Third  Edition. 

Gretna  Green  :  Monday  Emning. 
" '  The  mystery  is  at  length  solved.  This  afternoon,  at 
four  o'clock,  the  Hymeneal  Blacksmith,  of  Gretna  Green, 
celebrated  the  marriage  between  George  Granby  Silvertop, 
Esq.,  a  Lieutenant  in  the  150th  Hussars,  third  son  of  Gen- 
eral John  Silvertop,  of  Silvertop  Hall,  Yorkshire,  and 


146       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


Lady  Emily  Silvertop,  daughter  of  the  late  sister  of  the 
present  Earl  of  Bareacres,  and  the  Lady  Angelina  Amelia 
Arethusa  Anaconda  Alexandrina  Alicompania  Annemaria 
Antoinetta,  daughter  of  the  last-named  Earl  Bareacres/  " 

{Here  follows  a  long  extrcict  from  the  Marriage  Service  in 
the  Book  of  Common  Prayer  which  was  not  read  on  the  oc- 
casion and  need  not  he  repeated  here,) 

'  After  the  ceremony,  the  young  couple  partook  of  a 
slight  refreshment  of  sherry  and  water — the  former  the 
Captain  pronounced  to  be  execrable;  and,  having  myself 
tasted  some  glasses  from  the  very  same  bottle  with  which 
the  young  and  noble  pair  were  served,  I  must  say,  I  think 
the  Captain  was  rather  hard  upon  mine  host  of  the  Bag- 
pipes Hotel  and  Posting  House,  whence  they  instantly 
proceeded.    I  follow  them  as  soon  as  the  horses  have  fed/ 

Fourth  Edition, 
shameful  treatment  of  our  reporter. 

Whistlebinkie,  N.B.  :  Monday,  midnight, 

"  '  I  arrived  at  this  romantic  little  villa  about  two  hours 
after  the  newly-married  couple,  whose  progress  I  have  had 
the  honour  to  trace,  reached  Whistlebinkie.  They  have 
taken  up  their  residence  at  the  Cairngorm  Arms — mine 
are  at  the  other  hostelry,  the  Clachan  of  Whistlebinkie. 

" '  On  driving  up  to  the  Cairngorm  Arms,  I  found  a  gen- 
tleman of  military  appearance  standing  at  the  door,  and 
occupied  seemingly  in  smoking  a  cigar.  It  was  very  dark 
as  I  descended  from  my  carriage,  and  the  gentleman  in 
question  exclaimed,  ^^Is  it  you,  Southdown,  my  boy?  You 
have  come  too  late;  unless  you  are  come  to  have  some  sup- 
per; "  or  words  to  that  effect.  I  explained  that  I  was  not 
the  Lord  Viscount  Southdown,  and  politely  apprised  Cap- 
tain Silvertop  (for  I  justly  concluded  the  individual  before 
me  could  be  no  other)  of  his  mistake. 

"  f  <f  Who  the  deuce    (the  Captain  used  a  stronger  term) 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  147 


"are  you,  then?  "  said  Mr.  Silvertop.  "Are  you  Baggs  & 
Tapewell,  my  uncle's  attorneys?  If  you  are,  you  have 
come  too  late  for  the  fair." 

" '  I  briefly  explained  that  I  was  not  Baggs  &  Tapewell, 
but  that  my  name  was  J — ms,  and  that  I  was  a  gentleman 
connected  with  the  Establishment  of  The  Morning  Tattler 
newspaper. 

" '  "  And  what  has  brought  you  here,  Mr.  Morning  Tat- 
tler? asked  my  interlocutor,  rather  roughly.  My  answer 
was  frank — that  the  disappearance  of  a  noble  lady  from  the 
hoase  of  her  friends  had  caused  the  greatest  excitement  in 
the  metropolis,  and  that  my  employers  were  anxious  to 
give  the  public  every  particular  regarding  an  event  so 
singular. 

"And  do  you  mean  to  say,  sir,  that  you  have  dogged 
me  all  the  way  from  London,  and  that  my  family  affairs 
are  to  be  published  for  the  readers  of  The  Morning  Tattler 

newspaper !    The  Morning  Tattler  be  "  (the  Captain 

here  gave  utterance  to  an  oath  which  I  shall  not  repeat), 
"and  you  too,  sir;  you  impudent  meddling  scoundrel." 

"^"Scoundrel,  sir!"  said  I.  "Yes,"  replied  the  irate 
gentleman,  seizing  me  rudely  by  the  collar, — and  he  would 
have  choked  me,  but  that  my  blue  satin  stock  and  false  col- 
lar gave  way,  and  were  left  in  the  hands  of  this  gentleman, 
"Help,  landlord,"  I  loudly  exclaimed,  adding,  I  believe, 
"murder,"  and  other  exclamations  of  alarm.  In  vain  I 
appealed  to  the  crowd,  which  by  this  time  was  pretty  con- 
siderable ;  they  and  the  unfeeling  post-boys  only  burst  into 
laughter  and  called  out,  "  Give  it  him.  Captain."  A  strug- 
gle ensued,  in  which,  I  have  no  doubt,  I  should  have  had 
the  better,  but  that  the  Captain,  joining  suddenly  in  the 
general  and  indecent  hilarity,  which  was  doubled  when  I 
fell  down,  stopped  and  said,  "  Well,  Jims,  I  won't  fight  on 
my  marriage-day.  Go  into  the  tap,  Jims,  and  order  a  glass 
of  bran dy-and- water  at  my  expense — and  mind  I  don't  see 
your  face  to-morrow  morning,  or  I'll  make  it  more  ugly 
than  it  is." 

" '  With  these  gross  expressions  and  a  cheer  from  the 


148 


lARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


crowd,  Mr.  Silvertop  entered  the  inn.  I  need  not  say  that 
I  did  not  partake  of  his  hospitality,  and  that  personally  I 
despise  his  insults.  I  make  them  known  that  they  may 
call  down  the  indignation  of  the  body  of  which  I  am  a 
member,  and  throw  myself  on  the  sympathy  of  the  public, 
as  a  gentleman  shamefully  assaulted  and  insulted  in  the 
discharge  of  a  public  duty.' 


"Thus  you've  sean  how  the  flower  of  my  affeckshns 
was  tawn  out  of  my  busm,  and  my  art  was  left  bleading. 
Hangelina!  I  forgive  thee.  Mace  thou  be  appy!  If  ever 
artfelt  prayer  for  others  wheel  awailed  on  i,  the  beink  on 
whomb  you  trampled  addresses  those  subblygations  to  Evn 
in  your  be|- ! 

"I went  home  like  a  maniack,  after  hearing  the  enounce- 
ment  of  Hangelina' s  departer.  She'd  been  gone  twenty 
hours  when  I  heard  the  fatle  noose.  Purshoot  was  vain. 
Suppose  I  did  kitch  her  up,  they  were  married,  and  what 
could  we  do?  This  sensable  remark  I  made  to  Earl  Bare- 
acres,  when  that  distragted  nobleman  igspawstulated  with 
me.  Er  who  was  to  have  been  my  mother-in-lor,  the 
Countiss,  I  never  from  that  momink  sor  agin.  My  presnts, 
troosoes,  juels,  &c.,  were  sent  back — with  the  igsepshn  of 
the  diminds&  Cashmear  shawl,  which  her  Ladyship  coodnH 
find,  Ony  it  was  wisperd  that  at  the  next  buthday  she 
was  seen  with  a  shawl  igsackly  of  the  same  patn.  Let  er 
keep  it. 

"  Southdown  was  phurius.  He  came  to  me  hafter  the 
ewent,  and  wanted  me  to  advance  50  lb.,  so  that  he  might 
purshew  his  fewgitif  sister — but  I  wasn't  to  be  ad  with 
that  sort  of  chaugh;  there  was  no  more  money  for  that 
famly.  So  he  went  away,  and  gave  huttrance  to  his  feel- 
inx  in  a  poem,  which  appeared  (price  2  guineas)  in  the 
Bel  Asomhly, 

"  All  the  juilers,  manchumakers,  lacemen,  coch  bilders, 
apolstrers,  hors  dealers,  and  weddencake  makers  came 
pawring  in  with  their  bills,  haggravating  feelings  already 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAME8  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  149 


woondid  beyond  enjurants.  That  madnis  didn't  seaze  me 
that  night  was  a  mussy.  Fever,  fewry,  and  rayge  racked 
my  hagnized  braind,  and  drove  sleap  from  my  throbbink 
ilds.  Hall  night  I  foUered  Hangelinar  in  imadganation 
along  the  North  Eoad.  I  wented  cusses  &  mallydickshuns 
on  the  hinfamus  Silvertop.  I  kickd  and  rord  in  my  unhut- 
tarable  whoe !  I  seazd  my  pillar;  I  pitcht  into  it :  pummld 
it,  strangled  it.  Ha  har!  I  thought  it  was  Silvertop 
writhing  in  my  Jint  grasp ;  and  taw  the  hordayshis  Villing 
lim  from  lim  in  the  terrable  strenth  of  my  despare !  .  .  . 
Let  me  drop  a  cutting  over  the  memries  of  that  night. 
When  my  boddy-suvnt  came  with  my  Ot  water  in  the 
mawning,  the  livid  Copse  in  the  charnill  was  not  payler 
than  the  gashly  De  la  Pluche ! 

"'Give  me  the  Share-list,  Mandeville,'  I  micanickly 
igsclaimed.  I  had  not  perused  it  for  the  3  past  days,  my 
etention  being  engayged  elseware.  Hvns  &  huth ! — what 
was  it  I  red  there?  What  was  it  that  made  me  spring 
outabed  as  if  sumbabyhad  given  me  cold  pig — I  red  Eewin 
in  that  Share-list — the  Panick  was  in  full  hoparation. 

.  "  Shall  I  discribe  that  Kitastraf y  with  which  hall  Heng- 
land  is  fimiliar?  My  &  rifewses  to  cronnicle  the  misfortns 
which  lassarated  my  bleeding  art  in  Hocotober  last.  On 
the  fust  of  Hawgust  where  was  I?  Director  of  twenty- 
three  Companies;  older  of  scrip  hall  at  a  primmium,  and 
worth  at  least  a  quarter  of  a  millium.  On  Lord  Mare's 
day,  my  Saint  Helena's  quotid  at  14  pm  were  down  at  ^ 
discount;  my  Central  Ichaboes  at  f  discount;  my  Table 
Mounting  &  Hottentot  Grand  Trunk,  no  where ;  my  Bather- 
shins  and  Derryname  Beg,  of  which  I'd  bought  2000  for 
the  account  at  17  primmium  down  to  nix ;  my  Juan  Fernan- 
dez, &  my  Great  Central  Oregons,  prostrit.  There  was  a 
momint  when  I  thought  I  shouldn't  be  alive  to  write  my 
own  tail ! '' 

(Here  follow  in  Mr.  Plush's  MS.  about  twenty-four  pages 
of  railroad  calculations,  which  we  pretermit. ) 


150       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


"  Those  beests,  Pump  &  Aldgate,  once  so  cringing  and 
umble,  wrote  me  a  threatnen  letter  because  I  overdrew  my 
account  three  and  sixpence;  woodn^t  advance  me  five 
thousnd  on  250,000  worth  of  scrip;  kep  me  waiting  2 hours 
when  I  asked  to  see  the  house ;  and  then  sent  out  Spout, 
the  jewnior  partner,  saying  they  woodn't  discount  my 
paper,  and  implawed  me  to  clothes  my  account.  I  did :  I 
paid  the  three  and  six  ballince,  and  never  sor  'em  mor. 

"  The  market  fell  daily.  The  Eewin  grew  wusser  and 
wusser,  Hagnies,  Hagnies!  It  wasn't  in  the  city  aloan  my 
misfortns  came  upon  me.  They  beerded  me  in  my  own 
Ome.  The  Biddle  who  kips  watch  at  the  Halbany  wodn 
keep  Misfortn  out  of  my  chambers;  and  Mrs.  Twiddler,  of 
Pall  Mall,  and  Mr.  Hunx,  of  Long  Acre,  put  egsicution 
into  my  apartmince,  and  swep  off  every  stick  of  my  furni- 
ture. ^  Wardrobe  and  furniture  of  a  man  of  fashion.' 
What  an  adwertisement  George  Eobins  did  make  of  it; 
and  what  a  crowd  was  collected  to  laff  at  the  prospick  of 
my  ruing !  My  chice  plait ;  my  seller  of  wine ;  my  picturs 
— that  of  myself  included  (it  was  Maryhann,  bless  her! 
that  bought  it,  unbeknown  to  me) ;  all — all  went  to  the 
ammer.  That  brootle  Fitzwarren,  my  exvally,  womb  I 
met,  fimiliarly  slapt  me  on  the  sholder  and  said,  '  Jeames, 
my  boy,  you'd  best  go  into  survis  aginn.' 

"  I  did  go  into  survis — the  wust  of  all  suvvices — I  went 
into  the  Queen's  Bench  Prison,  and  lay  there  a  miserable 
captif  for  6  mortial  weeks.  Misrabble  shall  I  say?  No, 
not  misrabble  altogether,  there  was  sunlike  in  the  dunjing 
of  the  pore  prisner.  I  had  visitors.  A  cart  used  to  drive 
hup  to  the  prizn  gates  of  Saturdays;  a  washywoman'scart, 
with  a  fat  old  lady  in  it,  and  a  young  one.  Who  was  that 
young  one?  Every  one  who  has  an  art  can  gess,  it  was  my 
blue-eyed  blushing  Hangel  of  a  Mary  Hann.  '  Shall  we 
take  him  out  in  the  linnen-basket,  grandmamma? '  Mary 
Hann  said.  Bless  her,  she'd  already  learned  to  say  grand- 
mamma quite  natral ;  but  I  didn't  go  out  that  way ;  I  went 
out  by  the  door  a  white-washed  man.  Ho,  what  a  feast 
there  was  at  Healing  the  day  I  came  out!    I'd  thirteen 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  151 


shillings  left  when  I'd  bought  the  gold  ring.  I  wasn't 
prowd.  I  turned  the  mangle  for  three  weeks ;  and  then 
Uncle  Bill  said,  ^  Well,  there  is  some  good  in  the  feller ; ' 
and  it  was  agreed  that  we  should  marry.'' 

The  Plush  manuscript  finishes  here :  it  is  many  weeks 
since  we  saw  the  accomplished  writer,  and  we  have  only 
just  learned  his  fate.  We  are  happy  to  state  it  is  a  com- 
fortable and  almost  a  prosperous  one. 

The  Honorable  and  Eight  Eeverend  Lionel  Thistlewood, 
Lord  Bishop  of  Bullocksmithy,  was  mentioned  as  the  uncle 
of  Lady  Angelina  Silvertop.  Her  elopement  with  her 
cousin  caused  deep  emotion  to  the  venerable  prelate ;  he 
returned  to  the  palace  at  Bullocksmithy,  of  which  he  had 
been  for  thirty  years  the  episcopal  ornament,  and  where  he 
married  three  wives,  who  lie  buried  in  his  Cathedral  Church 
of  St.  Boniface,  Bullocksmithy. 

The  admirable  man  has  rejoined  those  whom  he  loved. 
As  he  was  preparing  a  charge  to  his  clergy  in  his  study 
after  dinner,  the  Lord  Bishop  fell  suddenly  down  in  a  fit 
of  apoplexy ;  his  butler,  bringing  in  his  accustomed  dish 
of  devilled-kidneys  for  supper,  discovered  the  venerable 
form  extended  on  the  Turkey  carpet  with  a  glass  of  Madeira 
in  his  hand ;  but  life  was  extinct ;  and  surgical  aid  was 
therefore  not  particularly  useful. 

All  the  late  prelate's  wives  had  fortunes,  which  the  ad- 
mirable man  increased  by  thrift,  the  judicious  sale  of  leases 
which  fell  in  during  his  episcopacy,  etc.  He  left  three 
hundred  thousand  pounds — divided  between  his  nephew 
and  niece — not  a  greater  sum  than  has  been  left  by  several 
deceased  Irish  prelates. 

What  Lord  Southdown  has  done  witk  his  share  Ave  are 
not  called  upon  to  state.  He  has  composed  an  epitaph  to 
the  Martyr  of  Bullocksmithy,  which  does  him  infinite 
credit.  But  we  are  happy  to  state  that  Lady  Angelina  Sil- 
vertop presented  five  hundred  pounds  to  her  faithful  and 
affectionate  servant,  Mary  Ann  Hoggins,  on  her  marriage 
with  Mr.  James  Plush,  to  whom  her  Ladyship  also  made  a 


152       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


handsome  present— namely,  the  lease,  goodwill,  and  fix- 
tures of  the  "  Wheel  of  Fortune  public  house,  near  Shep- 
pherd's  Market,  May  Fair:  a  house  greatly  frequented  by 
all  the  nobility's  footmen,  doing  a  genteel  stroke  of  busi- 
ness in  the  neighbourhood,  and  where,  as  we  have  heard, 
the  Butlers'  Club  is  held. 

Here  Mr.  Plush  lives  happy  in  a  blooming  and  interest- 
ing wife;  reconciled  to  a  middle  sphere  of  life,  as  he  was 
to  a  humbler  and  a  higher  one  before.  He  has  shaved  off 
his  whiskers,  and  accommodates  himself  to  an  apron  with 
perfect  good-humour.  A  gentleman  connected  with  this 
establishment  dined  at  the  Wheel  of  Fortune,  the  other 
day,  and  collected  the  above  particulars.  Mr.  Plush 
.  blushed  rather,  as  he  brought  in  the  first  dish,  and  told 
his  story  very  modestly  over  a  pint  of  excellent  port.  He 
had  only  one  thing  in  life  to  complain  of,  he  said — that  a 
witless  version  of  his  adventures  had  been  produced  at  the 
Princess's  Theatre,  "without  with  your  leaf  or  by  your 
leaf,"  as  he  expressed  it.  "  Has  for  the  rest,"  the  worthy 
fellow  said,  "I'm  appy — praps  betwigst  you  and  me  I'm  in 
my  proper  spear.  I  enjy  my  glass  of  beer  or  port  (with 
your  elth  &  my  suvvice  to  you.  Sir)  quite  as  much  as  my 
clarrit  in  my  prawsprus  days.  I've  a  good  busniss,  which 
is  likely  to  be  better.  If  a  man  can't  be  appy  with  such  a 
wife  as  my  Mary  Hann,  he's  a  beest;  and  when  a  christen- 
ing takes  place  in  our  f amly,  will  you  give  my  compliments 
to  Mr.  Punch,  and  ask  him  to  be  godfather." 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  153 


JEAMES  ON  TIME  BARGINGS. 

"  Peraps  at  this  present  momink  of  Eailway  Hagetatioa 
and  unsafe ty  the  foUymg  little  istory  of  a  young  friend  of 
mine  may  hact  as  an  olesome  warning  to  hother  week  and 
hirresolute  young  gents. 

Young  Frederick  Timmins  was  the  horphan  son  of  a 
respectable  cludgyman  in  the  West  of  Hengland.  Hadopted 

by  his  uncle,  Colonel  T  ,  of  the  Hoss-Mareens,  and 

regardless  of  expence,  this  young  man  was  sent  to  Heaton 
Collidge,  and  subsiquintly  to  Hoxford,  where  he  was  very 
nearly  being  Senior  Rangier.  He  came  to  London  to 
study  for  the  lor.  His  prospix  was  bright  indead ;  and  He 
lived  in  a  secknd  flore  in  Jerming  Street,  having  a  gluteal 
inkum  of  two  hunderd  lbs.  per  hannum. 

"  With  this  andsum  enuity  it  may  be  supposed  that 
Frederick  wanted  for  nothink.  Nor  did  he.  He  was  a 
moral  and  well-educated  young  man,  who  took  care  of  his 
close;  pollisht  his  hone  tea-party  boots;  cleaned  his  kidd- 
gloves  with  injer  rubber;  and,  when  not  invited  to  dine  out, 
took  his  meals  reglar  at  the  Hoxford  and  Cambridge  Club 
— where  (unless  somebody  treated  him)  he  was  never  known 
to  igseed  his  alf-pint  of  Marsally  Wine. 

"  Meri:its  and  vuttues  such  as  his  coodnt  long  pass  un- 
perseavd  in  the  world.  Admitted  to  the  most  fashnabble 
parties,  it  wasn't  long  befor  sevral  of  the  young  ladies 
viewed  him  with  a  favorable  i ;  one,  expecially,  the  lovely 
Miss  Hemily  MuUigatawney,  daughter  of  the  Heast-Injar 
Derector  of  that  name.  As  she  was  the  richest  gal  of  all 
the  season,  of  corse  Frederick  fell  in  love  with  her.  His 
haspirations  were  on  the  pint  of  being  crowndid  with  suc- 
cess ;  and  it  was  agreed  that  as  soon  as  he  was  called  to 
the  bar,  when  he  would  sutnly  be  apinted  a  Judge,  or  a 


154       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAIVIES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


revising  barrister,  or  Lord  Chanslor,  he  should  lead  her  to 
the  halter. 

"What  life  could  be  more  desirable  than  Frederick's? 
He  gave  up  his  mornings  to  perfeshnl  studdy,  under  Mr. 
Bluebag,  the  heminent  pleader ;  he  devoted  his  hevenings 
to  helegant  sosiaty  at  his  Clubb,  or  with  his  hadord  Hem- 
ily.  He  had  no  cares;  no  detts:  no  egstravigancies ;  he 
never  was  known  to  ride  in  a  cabb,  unless  one  of  his  tip- 
top friends  lent  it  him ;  to  go  to  a  theayter  unless  he  got  a 
horder ;  or  to  henter  a  tavern  or  smoke  a  cigar.  If  pros- 
perraty  was  hever  chocked  out,  it  was  for  that  young 
man. 

"But  sitckmstances  arose.  Fatle  suckmstances  for  pore 
Frederick  Timmins.    The  Eailway  Hoperations  began. 

"  For  some  time,  immerst  in  lor  and  love,  in  the  hardent 
hoccupations  of  his  cheembers,  or  the  sweet  sosiaty  of  his 
Hemily,  Frederick  took  no  note  of  railroads.  He  did  not 
,  reckonize  the  jigantic  revalution  which  with  hiron  strides 
was  a-walkin  over  the  country.  But  they  began  to  be 
talked  of  even  in  his  quiat  haunts.  Heven  in  the  Hoxford 
and  Cambridge  Clubb,  fellers  were  a  speckulatin.  Tom 
Trumper  (of  Brasen  Nose)  cleared  four  thowsnd  lb. ;  Bob 
Bullock  (of  Hexeter),  who  had  lost  all  his  proppaty  gam- 
bling, had  set  himself  up  again;  and  Jack  J)euceace,  who 
had  won  it,  had  won  a  small  istate  besides  by  lucky  speck- 
lations  in  the  Share  Markit. 

Hever  y  body  ivon,  'Why  shouldn't  I,'  thought  pore 
Fred;  and  having  saved  100  lb.,  he  began  a-writin  for 
shares — using,  like  an  ickonominicle  feller  as  he  was,  the 
Club  paper  to  a  prodigious  igstent.  All  the  Eailroad 
directors,  his  friends,  helped  him  to  shares — the  allottments 
came  tumbling  in — he  took  the  primmiums  by  fifties  and 
hundreds  a  day.  His  desk  was  cramd  full  of  bank  notes : 
his  brane  world  with  igsitement. 

"  He  gave  up  going  to  the  Temple,  and  might  now  be 
seen  hall  day  about  Capel  Court.  He  took  no  mor  hinterest 
in  lor ;  but  his  whole  talk  was  of  railroad  lines.  His  desk 
at  Mr.  Bluebag's  was  filled  full  of  prospectissies,  and  that 


DIARY  OF  C,  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  155 


legal  gent  wrote  to  Fred's  uncle,  to  say  lie  feared  he  was 
neglectin  Ms  bisniss. 

Alass !  he  was  neglectin  it,  and  all  his  sober  and  indus- 
terous  habits.  He  begann  to  give  dinners,  and  thought 
nothin  of  party s  to  Greenwich  or  Richmond.  He  didn't 
see  his  Hemily  near  so  often :  although  the  hawdacious 
and  misguided  young  man  might  have  done  so  much  more 
heasily  now  than  before :  for  now  he  kep  a  Broom ! 

"  But  there's  a  tumminus  to  hevery  Eailway.  Fred's  was 
approachin ;  in  an  evil  hour  he  began  making  time-hargings. 
Let  this  be  a  warning  to  all  young  fellers,  and  Fred's  hun- 
timely  hend  hoperate  on  them  in  a  moral  pint  of  vu ! 

"  You  all  know  under  what  f avrabble  suckemstansies  the 
Great  Hafrican  Line,  the  Grand  Niger  Junction,  or  Gold 

_  Coast  and  Timbuctoo  (Provishnal)  Hatmospheric  Railway 
came  out  four  weeks  ago :  deposit  ninepence  per  share  of 
20Z.  (six  elephant's  teeth,  twelve  tons  of  palm-oil,  or  four 
healthy  niggers,  African  currency) — the  shares  of  this 
helegeble  investment  rose  to  1,  2,  3,  in  the  Markit  A 

:  happy  man  was  Fred  when,  after  paying  down  100  nine- 
pences  (3^.  155.),  he  sold  his  shares  for  250Z.  He  gave  a 
dinner  at  the  Star  and  Garter  that  very  day  I  promise 
you  there  was  no  Marsally  there, 

"ISTex  day  they  were  up  at  3^.  This  put  Fred  in  a  rage : 
they  rose  to  5,  he  was  in  a  fewry.    '  What  an  ass  I  was  to 

^'  sell,'  said  he,  '  when  all  this  money  was  to  be  won! ' 

And  so  you  laere  an  Ass,'  said  his  partickler  friend, 
Colonel  Claw,  K.X.R.,  a  director  of  the  line,  '  a  double- 
eared  Ass.  My  dear  feller,  the  shares  will  be  at  15  next 
week.  Will  you  give  me  your  solemn  word  of  honour 
not  to  breathe  to  mortal  man  what  I  am  going  to  tell 
you?' 

Honour  bright,'  says  Fred. 
"^Hudson  has  joined  the  line.'    Fred  didn't  say  a 
word  more,  but  went  tumbling  down  to  the  City  in  his 
Broom.    You  know  the  state  of  the  streats.    Claw  went 
by  water. 

Buy  me  one  thousand  Hafricans  for  the  30th,'  cries 


156       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUOHE. 


Fred,  busting  into  his  broker's;  and  they  were  done  for 
him  at  4f . 

•  •  •  «  * 

"Can't  you  guess  the  rest?  Haven't  you  seen  the  Share 
List?  which  says : — 

^  Great  Africans,         ^d,;  price  ^ par.' 

"  And  that's  what  came  of  my  pore  dear  friend  Timmins's 
time- barging. 

"What'll  become  of  him  I  can't  say:  for  nobody  has 
seen  him  since.  His  lodgings  in  Jerming  Street  is  to  let. 
His  brokers  in  vain  deplore  his  absence.  His  Uncle  has 
declared  his  marriage  with  his  housekeeper ;  and  the  Morn- 
ing Erald  (that  emusing  print)  has  a  jDaragraf  yesterday  in 
the  fashnabble  news,  headed  '  Marriage  in  High  Life. — The 
rich  and  beautiful  Miss  MuUigatawney,  of  Portland  Place, 
is  to  be  speedily  united  to  Colonel  Claw,  K.X.K.' 

"  Jeames." 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  157 


JEAMES  ON  THE   GAUGE  QUESTION. 

Mr.  Punch  has  received  from  that  eminent  railroad  au- 
thority Mr.  Jeames  Plush,  the  following  letter,  which  bears 
most  pathetically  upon  the  present  Gauge  dispute : — 

^^You  will  scarcely  praps  rekonize  in  this  little  skitch 
the  haltered  liniments  of  1,  with  woos  face  the  reders  of 
your  valluble  mislny  were  once  fimiliar, — the  unfortnt 
Jeames  de  la  Pluche,  fomly  so  selabrated  in  the  fashnabble 
suckles,  now  the  pore  Jeames  Plush,  landlord  of  the  Wheel 
of  Fortune  public  house.  Yes,  that  is  me ;  that  is  my  hay- 
pun  which  I  wear  as  becomes  a  publican — those  is  the 
checkers  which  hornyment  the  pillows  of  my  dor.  I  am 
like  the  Eomin  Genral,  St.  Cenatus,  equal  to  any  emud- 
gency  of  Fortun.  I,  who  have  drunk  Shampang  in  my  time, 
aint  now  abov  droring  a  ^  pint  of  Small  Bier.  As  for  my 
wife — that  Angel — Vve  not  ventured  to  depigt  her.  Fansy 
her  a-sittn  in  the  Bar,  smilin  like  a  sunflower — and,  ho, 
dear  Punch  !  happy  in  nussing  a  deer  little  darlint  totsy- 
wotsy  of  a  Jeames,  with  my  air  to  a  curl,  and  my  i's  to 
aT! 

I  never  thought  I  should  have  been  injuiced  to  write 
anything  but  a  Bill  agin,  much  less  to  edress  you  on  Eail- 
way  Subjix — which  with  all  my  sole  1  ahaw.  Eailway 
letters,  obligations  to  pay  hup,  gluteal  inquirys  as  to  my 
Salissator's  name,  etc.,  etc.,  I  dispize  and  scorn  artily. 
But  as  a  man,  an  usbnd,  a  father  and  a  freebon  Brittn,  my 
jewty  compels  me  to  come  forwoods,  and  igspress  my  opin- 
ion upon  that  nashnal  netvsance — the  break  of  gage. 

^^An  interesting  ewent  in  a  noble  family  with  which  I 
once  very  nearly  had  the  honer  of  being  kinected,  acurd  a 

few  weex  sins,  when  the  Lady  Angelina  S  ,  daughter 

of  the  Earl  of  B — cres,  presented  the  gallant  Capting,  her 


158        DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


usband,  with  a  Son  &  hair.  Nothink  would  satasfy  her 
Ladyship  but  that  her  old  and  atacht  famdy-shamber,  my 
wife  Mary  Hann  Plush,  should  be  presnt  upon  this  hispi- 

cious  occasion.    Capting  S  was  not  jellus  of  me  on 

account  of  my  former  attachment  to  his  Lady.  I  cunsented 
that  my  Mary  Hann  should  attend  her,  and  me,  my  wife, 
and  our  dear  babby  acawdingly  set  out  for  our  noable 
frend's  residence.  Honeymoon  Lodge,  near  Cheltenham. 

"  Sick  of  all  Eailroads  myself,  I  wisht  to  poast  it  in  a 
Chay  and  4,  but  Mary  Hann,  with  the  hobstenacy  of  her 
Sex,  was  bent  upon  a  Eailroad  travelling,  and  I  yealded, 
like  all  husbinds.  We  set  out  by  the  Great  Westn,  in  an 
eavle  Hour. 

"  We  didn't  take  much  luggitch — my  wife's  things  in  the 
ushal  band-boxes — mine  in  a  potmancho.  Our  dear  little 
James  Angelo's  (called  so  in  complament  to  his  noble  God- 
mamma)  craddle,  and  a  small  supply  of  a  few  100  weight 
of  Topsanbawtems,  Farinashious  food,  and  Lady's  fingers, 
for  that  dear  child  who  is  now  6  months  old,  with  a  p&r- 
didgus  appatite.  Likewise  we  were  charged  with  a  bran 
new  Medsan  chest  for  my  lady,  from  Skivary  &  Moris,  con- 
taining enough  rewbub.  Daffy's  Alixir,  Godfrey's  cawdle 
with  a  few  score  of  parsles  for  Lady  Hangelina's  family 
and  owsehold;  about  2000  spessymins  of  Babby  linning 
from  Mrs.  Flummary's  in  Eegent  Street,  a  Chayny  Cresning 
bowl  from  old  Lady  Bareacres  (big  enough  to  immus  a 
Halderman),  &  a  case  marked  ^  Glass '  from  her  ladyship's 
meddicle  man,  which  were  stowed  away  together ;  had  to 
this  an  ormylew  Cradle,  with  rose-coloured  Satting  &  Pink 
lace  hangings  held  up  by  a  gold  tuttle-dove,  &c.  We  had, 
ingluding  James  Hangelo's  rattle  &  my  umbrellow,  73 
packidges  in  all. 

"  We  got  on  very  well  as  far  as  Swindon,  where,  in  the 
Splendid  Eefreshment  room,  there  was  a  galaxy  of  lovely 
gals  in  cottn  velvet  spencers,  who  serves  out  the  soop, 
and  1  of  whom  maid  an  impresshn  upon  this  Art  which  I 
shoodn't  like  Mary  Hann  to  know — and  here,  to  our  in- 
fanit  disgust,  we  changed  carridges.    I  forgot  to  say  that 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  159 


we  were  in  the  secknd  class,  having  with  us  J ames  Angelo, 
and  23  other  light  harticles. 

"Fust  inconveniance ;  and  almost  as  bad  as  break  of 
gage.  I  cast  my  hi  upon  the  gal  in  cottn  velvet  and 
wanted  some  soop,  of  coarse  5  but  seasing  up  J  ames  Han- 
gelo  (who  was  layin  his  dear  little  pors  on  an  Am  Sang- 
widg)  and  seeing  my  igspresshn  of  hi — 'James/  says  Mary 
Hann,  '  instead  of  looking  at  that  young  lady — and  not  so 
very  young,  neither — be  pleased  to  look  to  our  packidges 
&  place  them  in  the  other  carridge.'  I  did  so  with  an  evy 
Art.  I  eranged  them  23  articles  in  the  opsit  carridg,  only 
missing  my  umbrella  &  baby's  rattle;  and  jest  as  I  came 
back  for  my  baysn  of  soop,  the  beast  of  a  bell  rings,  the 
whizzling  injians  proclayms  the  time  of  our  departure, — & 
farewell  soop  and  cottn  velvet.  Mary  Hann  was  sulky. 
She  said  it  was  my  losing  the  umbrella.  If  it  had  been  a 
cotton  velvet  uvihrella  I  could  have  understood.  James 
Hangelo  sittn  on  my  knee  was  evidently  unwell ;  without 
his  coral :  &  for  20  miles  that  blessid  babby  kep  up  a  rawr- 
ing  which  caused  all  the  passingers  to  simpithize  with  him 
igseedingly. 

We  arrive  at  Gloster,  and  there  fansy  my  disgust  at 
bein  ableeged  to  undergo  another  change  of  carriages! 
Fansy  me  holding  up  moughs,  tippits,  cloaks,  and  baskits, 
and  James  Hangelo  rawring  still  like  mad,,  and  pretending 
to  shuperintend  the  carrying  over  of  our  luggage  from  the 
broad  gage  to  the  narrow  gage.  '  Mary  Hann,'  says  I,  rot 
to  desperation,  '  I  shall  throttle  this  darling  if  he  goes  on ! ' 
*  Do,'  says  she — '  and  go  iiito  the  refreshment  room,'  says 
she — a-snatchin  the  babby  out  of  my  arms.  'Do  go,'  says 
she,  'you're  not  fit  to  look  after  luggage,'  and  she  began 
lulling  James  Hangelo  to  sleep  with  one  hi,  while  she 
looked  after  the  packets  with  the  other.  'Now,  Sir,  if  you 
please,  mind  that  packet ! — pretty  darling — easy  with  that 
box.  Sir,  it's  glass — pooooty  poppet! — where's  the  deal 
case,  marked  arrowroot,  No.  24? '  she  cried,  reading  out 
of  a  list  she  had. — And  poor  little  James  went  to  sleep. 
The  porters  were  bundling  and  carting  the  various  harti- 


160       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


cles  with  no  more  ceremony  than  if  each  package  had  been 
of  cannon-ball. 

^^At  last — bang  goes  a  package  marked  *  Glass/  and  con- 
taining the  Chayny  bowl  and  Lady  Bareacres'  mixture,  into 
a  large  white  band-box,  with  a  crash  and  a  smash.  'It's 
My  Lady's  box  from  Crinoline's!'  cries  Mary  Hann,  and 
she  puts  down  the  child  on  the  bench,  and  rushes  forward 
to  inspect  the  dammidge.  You  could  hear  the  Chayny 
bowls  clinking  inside;  and  Lady  B.'s  mixture  (which  had 
the  igsack  smell  of  cherry  brandy)  was  dribbling  out  over 
the  smashed  band-box,  containing  a  white  child's  cloak, 
trimmed  with  Blown  lace  and  lined  with  white  satting. 

"  As  James  was  asleep,  and  I  was  by  this  time  uncom- 
mon hungry,  I  thought  I  would  go  into  the  Refreshment 
Eoom  and  just  take  a  little  soup;  so  I  wrapped  him  up  in 
his  cloak  and  laid  him  by  his  mamma,  and  went  off. 
There's  not  near  such  good  attendance  as  at  Swindon. 

We  took  our  places  in  the  carriage  in  the  dark,  both  of 
us  covered  with  a  pile  of  packages,  and  Mary  Hann  so 
sulky  that  she  would  not  speak  for  some  minutes.  At  last 
she  spoke  out — 

" '  Have  you  all  the  small  parcels? ' 
" '  Twenty -three  in  all,'  says  I. 
"'  Then  give  me  baby.' 
"'  Give  you  what  ?  '  says  I. 

Give  me  baby.' 
" '  What  haven't  y-y-yoooo  got  him?  ^  says  I. 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  0  Mussy !    You  should  have  heard  her  sreak !  We^d 
left  him  on  the  ledge  at  Gloster. 
"It  all  came  of  the  break  of  gage.' 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  161 


MR.  JEAMES  AGAIN. 

"Dear  Mr.  Punch, 

"As  newmarus  inquiries  have  been  maid  both  at  my 
privit  ressdence,  The  Wheel  of  Fortune  Otel,  and  at  your 
Hoffis,  regarding  the  fate  of  that  dear  babby,  James  Han- 
gelo,  whose  primmiture  disappearnts  caused  such  hagnies 
ta  his  distracted  parents,  I  must  begg,  dear  Sir,  the  per- 
mission to  ockupy  a  part  of  your  vauble  collams  once  more, 
and  hease  the  public  mind  about  my  blessid  boy. 

"  Wictims  of  that  nashnal  cuss,  the  Broken  Gage,  me 
and  Mrs.  Plush  was  left  in  the  train  to  Cheltenham, 
soughring  from  that  most  disgreeble  of  complaints,  a  hal- 
most  broken  Art.  The  skreems  of  Mrs.  Jeames  might  be 
said  almost  to  out-Y  the  squeel  of  the  dying,  as  we  rusht 
into  that  fashnable  Spaw,  and  my  pore  Mary  Hann  found 
it  was  not  Baby,  but  Bundles  I  had  in  my  lapp. 

"  When  the  old  Dowidger,  Lady  Bareacres,  who  was 
waiting  heagerly  at  the  train,  that  owing  to  that  abawmin- 
able  brake  of  Gage,  the  luggitch,  her  Ladyship^s  Cherry- 
brandy  box,  the  cradle  for  Lady  Hagelina's  baby,  the  lace, 
crockary  and  chany  was  re  juiced  to  one  immortial  smash ; 
the  old  cat  howld  at  me  and  pore  dear  Mary  Hann,  as  if 
it  was  huss,  and  not  the  infunnle  Brake  of  Gage,  was  to 
blame ;  and  as  if  we  ad  no  misf  ortns  of  our  hown  to  de- 
plaw.  She  bust  out  about  my  stupid  imparence;  called 
Mary  Hann  a  good  for  nothink  creecher,  and  wep  and 
abewsd  and  took  on  about  her  broken  Chayny  Bowl  a  great 
deal  mor  than  she  did  about  a  dear  little  Christian  child. 
'  Don^t  talk  to  me  abowt  your  bratt  of  a  babby '  (seshe), 
*  Where's  my  bowl? — whereas  my  medsan? — where's  my 
bewtiffle  Pint  lace? — All  in  ruins  through  your  stupidaty, 
you  brute,  you.' 

"  ^  Bring  your  hactiou   against  the   Great  Western, 


162       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


Maam,'  says  I,  quite  riled  by  this  crewel  and  imfealing 
hold  wixen.  ^Ask  the  pawters  at  Gloster,  why  your  goods 
is  spiled — it's  not  the  fust  time  they've  been  asked  the 
question.  Git  the  gage  haltered  aginst  the  nex  time  you 
send  for  medsan — and  meanwild  buy  some  at  the  Plow — 
they  keep  it  very  good  and  stong  there,  I'll  be  bound. 
Has  for  us,  ive're  a-going  back  to  the  cussid  station  at 
Gloster,  in  such  if  our  blessid  child.' 

"^You  don't  mean  to  say,  young  woman,'  seshee,  '  that 
you're  not  going  to  Lady  Hangelina:  what's  her  dear  boy 
to  do?  who's  to  nuss  it?  ' 

You  nuss  it,  Maam,'  says  I,  ^  Me  and  Mary  Hann  re- 
turn this  momint  by  the  Fly.'  And  so  (whishing  her  a 
suckastic  ajew)  Mrs.  Jeames  and  I  lep  into  a  one-oss 
weakle,  and  told  the  driver  to  go  like  mad  back  to  Gloster. 

I  can't  describe  my  pore  gal's  hagny  juring  our  ride. 
She  sat  in  the  carridge  as  silent  as  a  milestone,  and  as 
madd  as  a  march  Air.  "When  we  got  to  Gloster  she  sprang 
hout  of  it  as  wild  as  a  Tigris,  and  rusht  to  the  station  up 
to  the  fatle  Bench. 

My  child,  my  child,'  shreex  she,  in  a  hoss,  hot  voice, 
'Where's  my  infant?  a  little  bewtifle  child,  with  blue  eyes, 
— dear  Mr.  Policeman,  give  it  me — a  thousand  guineas  for 
it.' 

"^Faix,  Mam,'  says  the  man,  a  Hirishman,  'and  the 
divvle  a  babby  have  I  seen  this  day,  except  thirteen  of  my 
own — and  you're  welcome  to  any  one  of  them  and  kindly.' 

"  As  if  his  babby  was  equal  to  ours,  as  my  darling  Mary 
Hann  said,  afterwards.  All  the  station  was  scrouging 
round  us  by  this  time — pawters  &  clarx  and  refreshmint 
people  and  all.  'What's  this  year  row  about  that  there 
babby? '  at  last  says  the  Inspector,  stepping  hup.  I 
thought  my  wife  was  going  to  jump  into  his  harms. 
'Have  you  got  him?  '  says  she. 

" '  Was  it  a  child  in  a  blue  cloak?  '  says  he. 

"  'And  blue  eyes ! '  says  my  wife. 

"'I  put  a  label  on  him  and  sent  him  on  to  Bristol;  he's 
there  by  this  time.    The  Guard  of  the  Mail  took  him  and 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  163 


put  him  in  a  letter-box/  says  he,  '  he  went  20  minutes  ago. 
We  found  him  on  the  broad  gauge  line,  and  sent  him  on  by 
it,  in  course,'  says  he.  'And  it^U  be  a  caution  to  you, 
young  woman,  for  the  future  to  label  your  children  along 
with  the  rest  of  your  luggage.' 

"  If  my  piguniary  means  had  been  such  as  once  they  was, 
you  may  emadgine  I'd  ave  'ad  a  speshle  train  and  been 
hoff  like  smoak.  As  it  was,  we  was  obliged  to  wait  4  mor- 
tial  hours  for  the  nex'  train.  (4  ears  they  seemed  to  us) 
and  then  away  we  went. 

" '  My  boy !  my  little  boy ! '  says  poor,  choking  Mary 
Hann,  when  we  got  there.  'A  parcel  in  a  blue  cloak,'  says 
the  man?  '  No  body  claimed  him  here,  and  so  we  sent 
him  back  by  the  mail.  An  Irish  nurse  here  gave  him 
some  supper,  and  he's  at  Paddington  by  this  time.  Yes,' 
says  he,  looking  at  the  clock,  '  he's  been  there  these  ten 
minutes.' 

"But  seeing  my  poor  wife's  distracted  histarricle  state 
this  good-naturd  man  says,  '  I  think,  my  dear,  there's  a 
way  to  ease  your  mind.  We'll  know  in  five  minutes  how 
he  is.' 

Sir,'  says  she,  ^  don't  make  sport  of  me.' 
No,  my  dear,  we'll  telegrajyh  him! ' 

"  A  nd  he  began  hopparating  on  that  singular  and  ingenus 
electrickle  inwention,  which  aniliates  time,  and  carries  in- 
telligence in  the  twinkling  of  a  x^eg-post. 

"'I'll  ask,'  says  he,  '  for  child  marked  G.W.273.' 

"Back  comes  the  telegraph  with  the  sign,  'All  right.' 

"'Ask  what  he's  doing,  sir,'  says  my  wife,  quite  amazed. 
Back  comes  the  answer  in  a  Jiffy — 

"'C.E.Y.I.lSr.G.' 

"  This  caused  all  the  bystanders  to  laugh  excep  my  pore 
Mary  Hann,  who  puU'd  a  very  sad  face. 

"The  good-naterd  feller  presently  said  '  he'd  have  an- 
other trile;'  and  what  d'ye  think  was  the  answer?  Vm 
blest  if  it  wasn't — 

"'P.A.P.' 

"He  was  eating  pap!    There's  for  you — there's  a  rogue 


164       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 

for  you — there's  a  March  of  Intaleck!  Mary  Hann  smiled 
now  for  the  fust  time.  '  He'll  sleep  now/  says  she.  And 
she  sat  down  with  a  full  hart. 

•  »  .  •  • 

"  If  hever  that  good-natured  Shooperintendent  comes  to 
London,  he  need  never  ask  for  his  skore  at  the  Wheel  of 


Fortune  Hotel,  I  promise  you — where  me  and  my  wife  and 
J ames  Hangelo  now  is ;  and  where  only  yesterday  a  gent 
came  in  and  drew  this  pictur  of  us  in  our  bar. 

"  And  if  they  go  on  breaking  gages  \  and  if  the  child,  the 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUOHE.  165 


most  precious  luggidge  of  the  Henglishmau  is  to  be  bun- 
dled about  in  this  year  way,  why  it  won^t  be  for  want  of 
warning,  both  from  Professor  Harris,  the  Commission,  and 
from 

^'Mj  dear  Mr,  Funcli^s  obeajent  servant, 

"Jeames  Plush." 


106       DIART  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


ME.  JEAMES'S   SENTIMENTS  ON  THE 
CAMBKIDGE  ELECTION. 

TO  ME.  PUNCH. 

''Dear  Mr.  P., 

"Some  vulgar  &  raddicle  igspreshns  in  the  last  number 
of  your  mislany  in  juice  me  to  edress  you — I  mean  those  in 
which  you  indalch  in  mean  snears  at  the  conduck  of  the 
Donns  of  Cambritch  Unavussaty. 

"  Being  only  an  individgl,  and  not  a  Unavussaty  mann,  it 
ill  becomes  me,  I  know,  to  put  in  my  or  in  the  dispute 
about  the  Cambridg  Chanslor.  My  vote  (did  I  pesess  that 
facklty)  would  be — where,  I  needn  say.  Art  and  sole 
with  my  Prins  and  Roil  Concert  of  my  Crownd. 

''  My  sentimence  is  those  of  Doctor  Whyouwewyouwhe- 
well.  I've  stood  behind  his  chair  in  fommer  days,  where  I 
instantly  reckonised  his  elygnt  urbannaty,  his  retiring 
modesty,  his  unfained  umillaty,  and  his  genuin  cuttisy, — 
jest  as  'Anti-Junius  ^  in  the  Times,  igspresses  'em — and 
I've  no  doubt  his  pupils  ivas  'his  absobbing  care.'  I've 
heerd  say,  by  gents  who  were  at  Cambridg  College,  that  his 
love  for  the  young  fellers  was  ackshly  affecting  to  see; 
that  one  of  'em  was  never  ill,  but  he  sor  him  take  his  med- 
san  and  put  his  feet  in  hot  water;  that  he  wrote  to  the 
Mars  of  every  1  of  them  every  mawning ;  that  he  used  to 
weap  when  they  went  ome  for  the  oladays ;  that  he  ruined 
himself  in  making  'em  presents,  and  giving  'em  parties;  in 
a  wud,  there  was  no  end  to  his  kindness  and  femilliar  re- 
gard for  'em. 

"If  he  doesn't  allow  young  gentlemen  to  sit  down  in  his 
presents  now:  you  must  remember,  Mr.  Punch,  that  the 
purshoots  of  these  Schudents  is  already  sednterry:  and 
it's  unwholesome  for  'em  to  be  too  long  in  a  sittn  postar. 

"  This  however  is  not  the  pint  which  I  wish  at  present  to 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  167 


udj.  What  I  like,  is  the  bust  of  loilty  which  has  placed 
my  Prints  at  the  head  of  the  pole ;  and  that  manly  exabi- 
tion  of  indipendns  which  has  caused  Masters  of  Arts  & 
Brittns  to  rally  round  him.  Manly  a  Brittn  ahvays  is — 
there^s  no  truckling  about  us — we  never  kiss  a  great 
man^s  shoo-strings ;  and  if  the  Unavussaty  chooses  a 
Young  Jumman  Prince  of  sixntwenty  for  its  Chanslor  de- 
pend on  it  it  ad  its  reasns.  Depend  on  it  he'll  be  an  honor 
to  his  Halmymater.  He  was  chose  not  on  account  of  his 
exalted  rank  but  on  account  of  his  *  admirable  virtues ' — it 
was  them  that  made  him  Chanslor,  and  no  mistake. 

^^Y — you've  only  to  read  his  Eoil  Highness  own  roil 
note  in  reply  to  the  Cambridg  requisishn  to  convints  you 
he's  not  a  common  man — I  think  it  beats  every  think  in 
pint  of  style,  in  neatness  of  erangemint,  and  felissaty  of 
igspreshn. 

"  *  The  expression  of  the  wish  upon  the  part  of  so  numer- 
ous and  influential  a  portion  of  the  Senate  of  the  U.  of  C, 
including  so  many  eminent  names,  that  I  should  allow  my- 
self to  be  proposed  for  election  into  the  vacant  office  of  C. 
of  the  U.  cannot  be  otherwise  than  highly  gratifying  to  my 
feelings.  Did  it  not  appear  from  proceedings  entered  into 
by  others  in  the  University  that  there  does  not  exist  that 
unanimity  which  alone  would  leave  me  at  liberty  to  con- 
sent to  be  put  in  nomination,  I  should  have  felt  both  the 
greatest  pleasure  and  pride  in  acceding  to  the  desire  ex- 
pressed in  this  address,  and  so  personally  connecting  my- 
self with  your  ancient  and  renowned  seat  of  learning. ' 

There's  a  stile  for  you,  dear  Mr.  P.  "  ^  The  expression 
of  the  wish  upon  the  part  of  a  portion  of  the  senate  includ- 
ing so  many  eminent  names,' — there's  writing,  see  how  the 
preposishns  back  up  that  sentns !  '  The  wish  upon  the  part 
of  a  portion  of  the  senate,' — isn't  that  neat? — and,  '  includ- 
ing so  many  eminent  names,' — how  pie sntly  that  phrase 
comes  in !    It  may  be — 

1.  The  senate  includes  eminent  names, 

2.  The  wish  includes  eminent  names, 

3.  The  expression  includes  eminent  names, 
8— Vol.  19 


168       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


or  quite  the  revuss,  or  any  way  you  chews — it's  elygant 
however  you  take  it. 

"  And  ^  did  it  not  appear  that  there  does  not  exist  that 
unanimity  of  feeling,  I  should  have  felt  both  the  greatest 
pleasure  and  pride' — there's  a  happy  modesty  about  that 
igspreshn  which  amounts  to  i^erfect  Poitry.  Unless  the 
Universaty's  unanimous — unless  every  man — every  poor 
curick  in  Northumberland — every  pius  Bishop  in  Wesmis- 
ter — is  brought  to  see  that  the  Prince  must  be  Chanslor, 
that  it's  impawsable  to  think  of  any  other — to  ignolledge 
that  His  R.H.  is  the  man,  as  you  ignolledge  a  Star  or  a 
Comick  in  Heaven — he  can't  come  forrards.  There  never 
was  such  an  instants  of  amiable  diffidents.  But  the  Eds  of 
Ouses  woodn  let  H.H.  off.  Our  reveared  Bishops  sor  his 
tricks — they  knew  what  was  for  the  good  of  Hengland  and 
the  advancement  of  learning ;  they  took  his  Eoil  Highness 
nolus  bolus  (to  use  a  Lating  igspreshun),  and  carried  him 
blushing  to  the  head  of  the  pole. 

"  In  that  ellyvated  poast  I  am  proud  to  see  him ;  and 
what's  mor,  I  hope  when  little  Mary  Hann  and  Jeams  are 
arrived  at  the  proper  age,  I  shall  be  able  to  take  them  to 
be  confummed  by  that  exlent  prelick  (and  at  present  most 
Independent  minister)  Bishop  Whyewyouwhooill. 

"  I  look  f orrard,  I  say,  to  see  him  on  the  Bench — an 
ideer  which  I  am  sure  has  never  entered  into  the  head  of 
that '  honored  and  beloved '  man.  I  say  he  deserves  it, 
and  Y?  because  he's  worked  for  it.  And  I  present  my 
respeckfle  complymence  to  Anti-Junius  and  the  sperrited 
proprietors  of  The  Times. 

"  Your  obeajnt  Suvnt, 

"Jeames  de  la  Plitche.'' 


DIART  OP  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  169 


SONNICK, 

Sejested  by  Prince  Halbert  Gratiously  killing  the 
Staggs  at  Sacks-Cobug-Gothy. 

Some  forty  Ed  of  sleak  and  hantlered  dear 

In  Cobug  (where  such  hanimmles  abound) 
Were  shot,  as  by  the  nusepapers  I  hear, 

By  Halbert  Usband  of  the  British  Crownd. 
Britannia's  Queen  let  fall  the  purly  tear; 

Seeing  them  butcherd  in  their  silvn  prisns ; 
Igspecially,  when  the  keepers,  standing  roimd, 

Came  up  and  cut  their  pretty  hinnocent  whizns. 

Suppose,  instead  of  this  pore  Germing  sport 
This  Saxn  wenison  which  he  shoots  and  baggs, 

Our  Prins  should  take  a  turn  in  Capel  Court 
And  make  a  massyker  of  English  Staggs. 

Pore  Staggs  of  Hengland !  were  the  Untsman  at  you, 
What  avoc  he  would  make  &  what  a  trimenjus  battu ! 

Jeams. 


170       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAME8  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


THE  PERSECUTION  OF  BRITISH 
FOOTMEN. 

By  Mr.  Jeames. 

LiviN  remoke  from  the  whirld:  hockupied  with  the 
umble  dooties  of  my  perfeshuii,  which  moacely  consists  of 
droring  hale  &  beer  for  the  gence  who  freguent  my  otel, 
polittlicle  efairs  hinterest  but  suldum,  and  I  confess  that 
when  Loy  Philip  habdigaded  (the  other  day,  as  I  read  in 
my  noble  &  favorite  Dispatch  newspaper,  where  Publicoaler 
is  the  boy  for  me),  I  cared  no  mor  than  I  did  when  the 
chap  hover  the  way  went  hoff  without  paying  his  rent.  No 
maw  does  my  little  Mary  Hann.  I  prommis  you  she  has 
enough  to  do  in  minding  the  bar  and  the  babbies,  to  eed  the 
conwulsions  of  hempires  or  the  h agonies  of  prostrick  kings. 

I  ham  what  one  of  those  littery  chains  who  uses  our  back 
parlor  calls  a  poker  curranty  on  plitticle  subjix.  I  don^t 
permit  'em  to  whex,  worrit,  or  distubb  me.  My  objick  is 
to  leaf  a  good  beer  bisnis  to  little  Jeames,  to  sckewer  some- 
think  comftable  for  my  two  gals,  Mary  Hann  and  Han- 
gelina  (wherehof  the  latter,  who  has  jest  my  blew  his  and 
yaller  air,  is  a  perfick  little  Sherry bing  to  behold),  and  in 
case  Grimb  Deth,  which  may  appen  to  the  best  on  us, 
should  come  &  scru  me  down,  to  leaf  behind  a  somethink 
for  the  best  wife  any  gentleman  hever  ad — tied  down  of 
coarse  if  hever  she  should  marry  agin. 

I  shoodn't  have  wrote  at  all,  then,  at  this  present  juncter, 
but  for  sugmstances  which  affect  a  noble  and  galliant  body 
of  menu,  of  which  I  once  was  a  hornmint ;  I  mean  of  the 
noble  perfesshn  of  Henglish  footmen  &  livry  suvvants, 
which  has  been  crooly  pussicuted  by  the  jfiroashus  Paris 
mob.  I  love  my  hold  companions  in  harms,  and  none  is 
more  welcome,  when  they  ave  money,  than  they  at  the 
Wheel  of  Fortune  Otel.    I  have  a  clubb  of  twenty  for  gen- 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  171 


tlemen  outalivery,  which  has  a  riunion  in  my  front  parlor; 
and  Mr.  Buck,  my  lord  Diike^s  hown  man,  is  to  stand  God- 
father to  the  next  little  Plush  as  ever  was. 

I  call  the  attenshn  of  Europ,  in  the  most  solomon  and 
unpressive  manner,  to  the  hinjaries  infligted  upon  my 
brutherin.  Many  of  them  have  been  obleeged  to  boalt 
without  receiving  their  wagis ;  many  of  them  is  egsiles  on 
our  shaws :  an  inf ewriate  Parishn  mob  has  tawn  off  their 
shoaldernots,  laft  at  their  wenerable  liveries  and  buttons, 
as  they  laff  at  everythink  sacred ;  and  I  look  upon  those 
pore  men  as  nayther  mor  nor  less  than  marters,  and  pitty 
and  admire  them  with  hall  my  art. 

I  hoffer  to  those  sacred  rephugs  (to  such  in  coarse  as  can 
pay  their  shott)  an  esylum  under  the  awspitible  roof  of 
Jeames  Plush  of  the  Wheel  of  Fortune.  Some  has  already 
come  here ;  two  of  em  occupize  our  front  garrits ;  in  the 
back  Hattix  there  is  room  for  6  mor.  Come,  brave  and 
dontless  Hemmigrants!  Come,  childring  of  Kilammaty 
for  eight-and-six  a  week ;  an  old  member  of  the  Cor  hoffers 
you  bed  and  bord ! 

The  narratif  of  the  ixcapes  and  dangers  which  they  have 
gon  through,  has  kep  me  and  Mrs.  P.  hup  in  the  bar  to 
many  a  midnike  our,  a-listening  to  them  stories.  My  pore 
wife  cries  her  hi's  out  at  their  nerations. 

One  of  our  borders,  and  a  near  relatif  by  the  Grand- 
mother's side,  of  my  wife's  famly  (though  I  despise  buth, 
and  don't  bragg  like  some  foax  of  my  ginteel  kinexions), 
is  a  man  wenerated  in  the  whole  profeshn,  and  lookt  up  as 
one  of  the  fust  Vips  in  Europe.  In  this  country  (and  from 
his  likeness  when  in  his  Vig  to  our  rewered  prelicks  of  the 
bentch  of  bishops)  he  was  called  Cantyberry — his  reel  name 
being  Thomas.  You  never  sor  a  finer  sight  than  Canty- 
berry on  a  levy  day,  a-seated  on  his  goold  fringed  Ammer- 
cloth;  a  nozegy  in  his  busm;  his  little  crisp  vig  curling 
quite  noble  over  his  jolly  red  phase ;  his  At  laced  hallover 
like  a  Hadmiral ;  the  white  ribbings  in  his  ands,  the  prans- 
ing  bay  osses  bef or  him ;  and  behind^  his  state  carridge ; 
with  Marqiiz  and  Marchyness  of  Jonquil  inside,  and  the 


172       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


galliant  f ootmeu  in  yalla  livery  clinging  on  at  the  back ! 
"  Hooray !  the  boys  used  to  cry  hout,  only  to  see  Canty- 
berry  arrive.  Every  person  of  the  extablishment  called 
him  "  Sir/^  his  Master  &  Missis  inklewdid.  He  never  went 
into  the  stayble,  ixep  to  smoke  a  segar;  and  when  the 
state-carridge  was  bordered  (me  and  the  Jonquils  live  close 
together,  the  W  of  F  being  sitiwated  in  a  gluteal  Court  lead- 
ing hout  of  the  street),  he  sat  in  my  front  parlor,  in  full 
phig,  reading  the  newspaper  like  a  Lord,  until  such  time 
as  his  body-suvn't  called  him,  and  said  Lord  and  Lady  Jon- 
quil was  ready  to  sit  behind  him.  Then  he  went.  Not  a 
minnit  sooner :  not  a  minnit  latter ;  and  being  elped  hup  to 
the  box  by  3  men,  he  took  the  ribbings,  and  drove  his  em- 
ployers, to  the  ressadencies  of  the  nibillaty,  or  the  pallis  of 
the  Sovring. 

Times  is  now,  E»  how  much  changed  with  Cantyberry ! 
Last  yer,  being  bribed  by  Sir  Thomas  and  Lady  Kickle- 
bury,  but  chiefly,  I  fear,  because  this  old  gent,  being  in- 
timat  with  Butlers,  had  equired  a  tayste  for  Bergamy,  and 
Clarick,  and  other  French  winds,  he  quitted  Lord  and  Lady 
Jonquil's  box  for  that  of  the  Kicklebury  famly,  residing 
Etie  Rivuly,  at  Parris.  He  was  rispected  there — that  Canty- 
berry is  wherehever  he  goes;  the  King,  the  Hex-Kings 
coachmen,  were  mear  moughs  compared  to  him ;  and  when 
he  card  the  Kings  osses  were  sold  the  other  day  at  50 
frongs  apease,  he  says  they  was  deer  at  the  money. 

Well,  on  the  24th  of  Febbywerry,  being  so  ableegin  as 
to  drive  Sir  T.  and  Lady  Kicklebury  to  dinner  with  the 
Markee  D'Epinard,  in  the  Fohug  Sang  Jermang,  Canty- 
berry, who  had  been  sittn  all  day  reading  Gallynanny^ 
and  playing  at  cribbidge  at  a  Marshong  de  Vang,  and 
kawbsquinly  was  quite  hignorant  of  the  ewents  in  progrice, 
found  hisself  all  of  a  sudding  serowndid  by  a  set  of  rewd 
fellers  with  pikes  and  guns,  hoUerun  and  bellerin  "  Veevly 
liberty, Amove  Lewy-Philip,"  &c. — "Git  out  of  the  way 
there,"  says  Cantyberry,  from  his  box,  a-vipping  his  osses. 

The  puple,  as  the  French  people  call  theirselves,  came 
round  the  carridge,  rawring  out    Ah  Bah  VAristograt !  " 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  173 


Lady  Kicklebury  looked  hout.  Her  Par  was  in  the 
Cheese  Mongermg  (olesale)  way :  aad  she  never  was  called 
an  aristograt  afor.  "Your  mistaken,  my  good  people/^ 
says  she;  "  swee  Onglase.  Wee,  boco,  Lady  Kicklebury, 
je  vay  dinei' avec  Munseer  D'Eppynar;^^  and  so  she  went 
a-jabbring  on;  but  I'm  blest  if  the  Puple  would  let  her 
pass  that  way.  They  said  there  was  a  barrygade  in  the 
street,  and  turning  round  the  eds  of  Cantyberry's  osses, 
told  him  to  drive  down  the  next  street.  He  didn't  under- 
stand, but  was  reddy  to  drop  hoff  his  perch  at  the  Hindig- 
naty  hoffered  the  British  Vip. 

Now  they  had  scarce  drove  down  the  next  street  at  a 
tarin  gallop,  (for  when  aggrywated,  Cantyberry  drives  like 
madd,  to  be  sure),  when  lowinbyold,  they  come  on  some 
more  puple,  more  pikes,  more  guns,  the  pavement  hup,  and 
a  Buss  spilt  on  the  ground,  so  that  it  was  impawsable  to  pass. 

"  Git  out  of  the  carridge,"  rors  the  puple,  and  a  feller  in 
a  cock  at,  (of  the  PoUypicnic  School,  Cantyberry  says, 
though  what  that  is  he  doant  No),  comes  up  to  the  door, 
while  bothers  old  the  osses,  and  says,  "  Miladi,  il  faitt  de- 
scendres  ;     which  means,  you  must  git  out. 

"  Mivay  ne  vu  j^cfs,  Moi  Lady  Kicklebury,''  cries  out  my 
Lady,  waggling  her  phethers  and  diminds,  and  screaming 
like  a  Macaw. 

"iZ  le  fo  pottrtongy^^  says  the  PoUypicnic  scholard:  very 
polite,  though  he  was  ready  to  bust  with  laffin  hisself. 
"  We  must  make  a  barrygade  of  the  carridge.  The  cavilry 
is  at  one  hend  of  the  street,  the  hartillary  at  the  other ; 
there'll  be  a  fight  presently,  and  out  you  must  git." 

Lady  Kicklebury  set  up  a  screaming  louder  than  hever, 
and  I  warrant  she  hopped  out  pretty  quick  this  time,  and 
the  hoffiser,  giving  her  his  harm,  led  her  into  a  kimmis 
shop,  and  give  her  a  glas  of  sallyvalattaly. 

Meanwild  Cantyberry  sat  puffin  like  a  grampus  on  his 
box,  his  face  as  red  as  Ceiling  whacks.  His  osses  had  been 
led  out  before  his  hi's,  his  footmen — French  minials,  un- 
wuthy  of  a  livry — had  fratynized  with  the  Mobb,  and 
Thomas  Cantyberry  sat  aloan. 


174       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


Descends  mong  gros!^^  cries  the  mobb;  (which  intup- 
prited  is  "  Come  down,  old  fat  un ; "  come  off  your  box, 
we're  goin  to  upset  the  carridge.'^ 

"Never/'  says  Thomas,  for  which  he  knew  the  French; 
and  dubbling  his  phist,  he  igsclaimed,  "  Jammy  Bammy  !  " 
He  cut  the  fust  man  who  sprang  hon  the  box,  hover  the 
fase  and  i's;  he  delivered  on  the  nex  feller's  nob.  But 
what  was  Thomas  Cantyberry  against  a  people  in  harms? 
They  pulled  that  brave  old  man  off  his  perch.  They  up- 
set his  carridge — his  carridge  beside  a  buss.  When  he 
comes  to  this  pint  of  his  narratif ,  Thomas  always  busts 
into  tears  and  calls  for  a  fresh  glas. 

He  is  to  be  herd  of  at  my  bar:  and  being  disingaged 
hoffers  hisself  to  the  Nobillaty  for  the  enshuing  seasn. 
His  tums  is  ninety  lbs.  per  hannum,  the  purchesing  of  the 
hannimals  and  the  corn,  an  elper  for  each  two  osses :  ony 
to  drive  the  lord  and  lady  of  the  famly,  no  drivin  at  night 
excep  to  Ofishl  parties,  and  two  vigs  drest  a  day  during 
the  seasn.  He  objex  to  the  country,  and  won't  go  abrod 
no  more.  In  a  country  (sezee)  where  I  was  ableeged  to 
whonder  abowt  disguised  out  of  livery,  amongst  a  puple 
who  pulled  my  vig  off  before  my  face,  Thomas  will  never 
mount  box  agin. 

And  I  eplaud  him.  And  as  long  as  he  has  enough  to 
pay  his  skaw,  my  house  is  a  home  for  this  galliant  Hegsile. 


Sins  last  weak  the  Beaming  of  Eevalution  has  been 
waiving  his  flamming  sord  over  France,  has  drove  many 
more  of  our  unfortnit  feller  suvnts  to  hemigrat  to  the  land 
of  their  Buth. 

The  aggrywation  of  the  Boddy  of  Gentlemen  at  Livvry 
agenst  the  Forriner  I  am  sorry  to  say  is  intence.  Heatings 
of  my  bruthring  have  took  place  at  many  of  their  Houses 
of  Call  in  this  town.  Some  gence  who  use  our  back  parlor 
had  an  Eccembly  there  the  other  night  called  the  Hag- 
grygit  British  Plush  Protection  Society,  which,  in  my  ca- 
pasty  of  Lanlord  and  Xmember  of  the  Boddy,  I  was  called 


DIARY  OP  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  175 


upon  to  attend.  Everythink  was  conducted  on  ordly  redy- 
money  prinsaples,  and  the  liquor  paid  for  as  soon  as  called 
for,  and  drunk  as  soon  as  paid. 

But  the  feelings  of  irratation  against  Foring  Se wants  as 
igsibbited  by  our  Domestic  projuice  was,  I  grieve  to  say, 
very  bitter.  Sevral  of  our  Marters  came  amongst  us,  pore 
Egsiles  wrankling  under  the  smarts  of  their  ill  treatment. 
The  stories  of  their  Eongs  caused  a  furmentation  amongst 
the  bruthring.  It  was  all  I  could  do  to  check  the  harder 
of  some  Howtragus  Sperrits,  and  awhirt  perhaps  a  Massy- 
kry  of  French  curriers  and  lackys  employed  by  our  nobil- 
laty  and  gentry.  I  am  thankful  to  think  that  peraps  I 
prewented  a  dellidge  of  foring  blood. 

The  tails  told  by  our  Marters  igsited  no  small  and  un- 
natral  simpithy :  when  Chawls  Garters,  late  Etendant  in 
the  famly  of  the  Duke  of  Calymanco  in  the  Fobug  St, 
Honory,  came  amongst  and  igsj^lained  how — if  he  had  been 
aloud  to  remane  a  few  weeks  longer  in  Parris — Madamasell 
De  Calymanco,  the  Duke's  only  daughter  and  hairis,  would 
probbly  have  owned  the  soft  pashn  which  she  felt  for  our 
por  Chawls,  and  have  procured  the  consent  of  her  Par  to 
her  marridge  with  the  galliant  and  andsum  Henglishman, 
the  meeting  thrild  with  Amotion,  and  tears  of  pitty  for  our 
comrid  bedimd  each  hi.  His  hart's  afections  have  been 
crusht.  Madymasell  was  sent  to  a  Convent ;  and  Chawls 
dismist  with  a  poltry  3  months  wages  in  adwance,  and  re- 
turns to  Halbion's  shores  &  to  servitude  once  more. 

Frederic  Legs  also  moved  us  deaply ;  we  call  him  leggs, 
from  the  bewty  of  those  limbs  of  his,  which  from  being  his 
pride  and  hornymint,  had  nearly  projuised  his  rewing. 
When  the  town  was  in  kemotion,  and  the  furious  French 
Peuple  pursewing  every  Henglish  livary,  Frederick  (in 
suvvice  with  a  noble  famly  who  shall  be  nameliss)  put  on  a 
palto  and  trowseys,  of  which  his  master  made  him  a  presnt 
and  indeavoured  to  fly. 

He  mounted  a  large  tricolore  cockade  in  his  At,  from 
which  he  tor  the  lace,  and  tried  as  much  as  possable  to 
look  like  a  siwillian.   But  it  wouldn't  do.   The  clo's  given 


176       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


him  by  his  X-master,  who  was  a  little  mann,  were  too 
small  for  Frederick — the  bewty  of  his  legs  epeared  through 
his  trowsies.  The  Rebublikins  jeered  and  laft  at  him  in  the 
streats ;  and  it  is  a  mussy  that  he  ever  reached  Balone  alive. 

I  tried  to  cumsole  Chawls  by  pinting  out  that  the  Art 
which  has  truly  loved  never  forgits,  but  as  trewly  loves  on 
to  the  clothes ;  and  that  if  Madamasell  reely  did  love  him 
as  he  said,  he  had  a  better  chans  of  winning  her  And  now 
than  under  a  monarchickle  and  arastacrattic  Guvment ;  and 
as  for  Frederic,  I  pinted  out  to  him  that  a  man  of  his  ap- 
pearants  was  safe  of  implymint  and  promoashn  in  any  coun- 
try. 

I  did  every  think,  in  a  word,  to  sooth  my  f  rends.  In  a 
noble  speach  I  showed,  that  if  others  do  wrong,  that  is  no 
reason  why  we  shouldn't  do  right.  "  On  the  contry  now  is 
the  time,"  I  said,  "for  Hengland  to  show  she  is  reely  the 
Home  of  the  World ;  and  that  all  men,  from  a  Black  to  a 
Frenchman,  ought  to  be  safe  under  the  Banner  of  the  Brit- 
tanier. 

"The  phoUy  of  these  consperracies  and  jellowsies,  I 
think  may  be  pinted  out  to  my  feller- suvanfcs,  and  igsem- 
plafied  in  the  instants  of  the  famlies  of  the  Prince  of 
Bovo,  at  parris,  and  of  Lord  Y  Count  Guttlebury,  in  this 
country. 

"At  Parris,  as  is  well  ascertained,  the  nobill  Prins,  who 
kep  a  large  studd  of  osses,  with  English  groombs  to  take 
care  of  em  (as  by  natur  Britns  are  formed  to  do  that,  and 
every  think  better  than  everybody) — the  noble  Prins,  I  say, 
was  called  upon  by  the.  Puple  to  dishmiss  his  Hinglish  oss- 
keepers.  ' Servititre,^  says  the  Prince,  ^  Veeve  la  liberty/ 
let  the  Hosskeepers  be  turned  out,  as  the  Sovring  Puple  is 
inimichael  to  their  stoppin  in  France.'  The  Puple  left  the 
Sitzen  Prins  with  a  chear  for  fratunnity,  &  the  por  groombs 
packed  up,  and  have  come  back  to  their  native  hilind. 

"  But  what  inshood?  The  next  day  the  Prins  sent  away 
the  bosses  after  the  hosskeepers ;  sold  up  the  studd ;  locked 
up  the  carridges,  broombs,  cabs,  bogeys  (as  those  hignorant 
French  call  buggiz),  laudores  &  all,  and  goes  about  now 


DIARY  OF  C,  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  177 


with  an  umbereller.  And  how  I  should  lick  to  know,  is 
the  puple  any  better  for  meddlin? 

"Lord  Ycount  Guttle  bury 's  is  a  case,  dear  friends,  which 
still  mor  comes  hoam  to  our  busms  and  our  bisniss,  and 
has  made  no  small  sensatiun  in  the  Plush  and  in  the  fash- 
ionable wuld.  The  splender  of  his  lodship's  entytain- 
ments  is  well-known.  That  good  and  uprike  nobleman 
only  lived  for  wittles.  And  be  ard  on  him?  why  should 
we? — Kayter  has  implanted  in  our  busums  tastis  of  a  thou- 
sand different  kinds.  Some  men  have  a  pashn  for  fox- 
untin,  some  like  listening  to  dybatts  in  Parly  mink  and  settn 
on  railrode  committies;  some  like  Politticle  Aconomy. 
I've  waited  behind  a  chair  and  heard  foax  talk  about 
JoUagy,  Straty,  and  red  sanstone,  until  I've  nearly  dropt 
asleap  myself  while  standing  a  Santynel  on  jewty.  What 
then?  Give  every  mann  his  taste,  I  say,  and  my  Lord 
Guttlebury's  was  his  dinner. 

"  He  had  a  French  Hartist  at  the  head  of  his  Quizeen  of 
coarse — that  sellabrated  mann  Munseer  Supreme.  Munseer 
Sooflay  persided  hover  the  cumfeckshnary ;  and  under  Su- 
praym  were  three  young  aidycongs :  a  Frenchman,  a  Bul- 
gian,  and  a  young  feller  from  the  city,  who  manidged  the 
tertle  and  wenson  department. 

"  He  was  a  clever  young  mann.  He  has  hofn  been  to 
take  a  glas  at  the  W  of  F :  and  whenever  he  came  with  a 
cassyrowl  of  clear  turtle,  or  an  ash  wenison  dish  for  my 
Mary  Hann,  he  was  I'm  sure  always  welcome.  But  John 
Baster  was  henvious  and  hambishes.  He  jined  the  owtcry 
which  has  been  rose  against  foring  suvnts  by  some  of  our 
bruthring,  and  he  thought  to  git  ridd  of  Supraym  and  the 
other  contynentials,  and  espired  to  be  Chief  Guvnor  of  my 
lord's  kitching. 

"  Forgitting  every  sentament  but  haytred  of  the  f orryner, 
this  envius  raskle  ingaged  the  kitching-boys  and  female 
elpers  (who,  bein  a  hansum  young  mann,  looked  on  him 
with  a  kindly  i)  in  a  fowl  conspirracy  against  the  French- 
men. He  introjuiced  kyang  pepper  into  the  pattys,  gar- 
lick  into  the  Blemongys,  and  sent  up  the  souffly  flavoured 


178       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


with  ingyans.  He  pysoned  my  lord's  chocolate  with  sha- 
lott,  he  put  Tarry  gin  vinegar  into  the  Hices.  There  never 
was  such  a  conwulsion,  or  so  horrid  an  igspreshn  of  hagny 
in  a  man's,  has  (I'm  told  by  my  exlent  friend,  the  Mojor- 
domy)  my  lord's  fase  ashumed,  when  he  tasted  black  pep' 
per  in  the  clear  soup. 

The  exdence  occurred  day  after  day.  It  was  one  day 
when  a  R — 1  P — ss — n — dge  was  dining  with  his  Lodd- 
ship ;  another  when  6  egsiled  sovrings  took  their  mutton 
(when  he  didn't  so  much  mind) ;  a  3d  when  he  wished  to 
dine  more  igspecially  better  than  on  any  other,  because  the 
doctor  had  told  him  to  be  careful,  and  he  was  dining  by 
himself :  this  last  day  drove  him  madd.  He  sent  for  Su- 
prame,  addresst  that  gentilman  in  languidge  which  he 
couldn't  brook  (for  he  was  a  Major  of  the  Nashnal  Guard  of 
his  Betallian,  and  Commander  of  the  Legend  of  Honour), 
and  Suprame  rasined  on  the  spott — which  the  French  and 
the  Bulgian  did  it  too. 

"  Soouflay  and  the  cumfectioners  hemigrated  the  nex  day. 
And  the  house  steward,  who  has  a  heasy  master,  for  Lord 
G.  is  old,  fibble,  and  70  years  of  hage,  and  whose  lady  has 
an  uncommon  good  apinnion  of  Master  Baster,  recom- 
mended him  to  the  place,  or  at  least  to  have  the  Pur- 
visional  Guvment  of  my  lord's  Quizeen. 

"It  wasn't  badd.  Baster  has  talints  of  no  mien  border. 
You  couldn't  egsactly  find  folt  with  his  souperintend- 
iance.  But  a  mere  good  dinner  is  fur  from  enough  to  your 
true  amature.  A  dellixy,  a  something,  2i  jenny  squaw  ^  con- 
statutes  the  diffrants  between  talint  and  Genus — and  my 
lord  soughered  under  it.  He  grew  melumcoUy  and  silent ; 
he  dined,  it's  trew,  tay sting  all  the  outrays  as  usual,  but 
he  never  made  any  remarx  about  'em,  for  good  or  for  bad. 
Young  Baster  at  the  Igth  of  his  Hambishn,  tor  his  Air 
with  rage  as  his  dinners  came  down  1  by  1,  and  nothing 
was  said  about  'em — nothing. 

"  Lord  Guttlebury  was  breaking  his  Art,  He  didn'  know 
how  fond  he  was  of  Supraym,  till  he  lost  him — how  nes- 
sassurry  that  mann  was  to  his  igsistence.    He  sett  his  con- 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  179 


fidenshle  Valick  to  find  out  where  Supraym  had  retreated ; 
and  finding  he  was  gone  to  Gascony,  of  which  he  is  a  natif, 
last  weak,  without  saying  a  word  to  his  frends,  with  only 
Sangswe  his  valet,  and  the  flying  ketching  fourgong,  with- 
out which  he  never  travels — my  lord  went  to  France  and 
put  himself  again  under  Supraym.  The  sean  between  'em, 
I'm  told,  was  very  affecting.  My  lord  has  taken  a  Shatto 
near  Supraym' s  house,  who  comes  to  dress  the  dinner  of 
which  the  noble  Ycount  partakes  aloan. 

"The  town-house  is  shet  up,  and  everybody  has  ad 
orders  to  quit — all  the  footmen — all  the  quizeen,  in  coarse 
including  Baster — and  this  is  alt  he  has  gained  by  his  in- 
sidgus  haytrid  of  forraners,  and  by  his  foolish  hambishn. 

"  No,  my  friends,"  I  concluded ;  "  if  gentlemen  choose  to 
have  foreign  suvnts,  it's  not  for  us  to  intafear,  and  there 
must  be  a  free  trayd  in  flunkies  as  in  every  other  kimodaty 
of  the  world." 

I  trust  that  my  little  remarks  pazyfied  some  of  the  dis- 
contented sperrits  presnt — and  can  at  least  wouch  for  the 
fact  that  every  man  shook  Ands ;  every  man  paid  his  Skoar. 


180       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


THOUGHTS  ON  A  NEW  COMEDY. 

(Being  a  Letter  from  Mr.  J  s  Plush  to  a 

Friend.) 

"  Whell  of  Fortune,  Barr, 
"  Jenyoury  twenty -fith. 

"  My  dear  Eincer, 

"  Me  and  Mary  Hann  was  very  much  pleased  with  the 
box  of  feznts  and  woodcox,  which  you  sent  us,  both  for  the 
attention  which  was  dellygit,  and  because  the  burds  was 
uncommon  good  and  full  of  flaviour.  Some  we  gev  away : 
some  we  hett :  and  I  leave  you  to  emadgin  that  the  Mann 
as  sent  em  will  holways  find  a  glass  of  somethink  comfor- 
able  in  our  Barr;  and  I  hope  you^U  soon  come  back  to  Lon- 
don, Rincer,  my  boy.  Your  account  of  the  Servants'  all 
festivvaties  at  Fitzbattleaxe  Castle,  and  your  dancing  Sir 
Eodjydycovvly  (I  don't  know  how  to  spell  it)  with  Lady 
Hawguster,  emused  Mary  Hann  very  much.  That  sotta- 
thing  is  very  well — onst  a  year  or  so :  but  in  my  time  I 
thought  the  fun  didn't  begin  until  the  great  folks  had  gone 
away.  Give  my  kind  suvvices  to  Mrs.  Lupin,  and  tell 
Munseer  Beshymell  with  my  and  Mary  Hann's  best  wishes, 
that  our  little  Fanny  can  play  several  tunes  on  his  pianner. 
Comps  to  old  Coachy. 

"Till  parlymint  nothink  is  stirring,  and  there's  no  noose 
to  give  you  or  fill  my  sheat — igsept  (and  I  dessay  this  will 
surprize  you) — igsept  I  talk  about  the  new  Play. 

"  Although  I'm  not  genly  a  patternizer  of  the  Drammer, 
which  it  interfears  very  much  with  my  abbits  and  ixpeshly 
is  not  plesnt  dareckly  after  dinner  to  set  hoff  to  a  cold 
theayter  for  a  middle-Hage  Mann,  who  likes  to  take  things 
heazy ;  yet,  my  dear  feller,  I  do  from  time  to  time  step  in 
(with  a  border)  to  the  walls  of  the  little  Aymarket  or  Old 
Dewry,  sometimes  to  give  a  treat  to  Mrs.  Jeames  and  the 
younguns,  sometimes  to  wild  away  a  hidle  hour  when  she's 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  181 


outatown  or  outatemper  (which  sometimes  will  occur  in  the 
best  reglated  families,  you  know),  or  when  some  private 
mellumcoUy  or  sorer  of  my  own  is  a  hagitating  hof  me. 

"  Yesdy  evening  it  was  none  of  these  motifs  which  in- 
juiced  me  to  go  to  the  theayter — I  had  heard  there  was  a 
commady  jest  brought  out,  inwolving  the  carrickter  of  our 
profession — that  profeshn  which  you  and  me,  Mr.  Eincer, 

.  did  oust  belong  to — I'm  not  above  that  profeshn.  I  ave 
its  hintarests  and  Honor  at  art :  and  of  hevery  man  that 
wears  the  Plush,  I  say  that  Mann  is  my  Brother — (not  that 
I  need  be  phonder  of  him  for  that,  on  the  ontry,  I  recklect 
at  our  school  where  I  lunt  the  fust  rules  of  athography 
and  grammar,  the  Brothers  were  holwis  a  pitchen  into 
heach  other) — but  in  fine,  I  love  the  Plush  of  hold  days, 

^  and  hah !  I  regret  that  hold  Father  Time  is  doing  some- 
think  to  my  Air,  which  wightns  it  more  pumminantly 
than  the  Powder,  which  once  I  war ! 

"A  commady.  Sir,  has  been  brought  out,  (which  I'm 
surprized  it  aint  been  mentioned  at  my  Barr,  though  to  be 
sure  mose  gents  is  keeping  Grismass  Olydays  in  the  Coun- 
try) in  which  I  was  creddably  informed — one  of  hus — one 
of  the  old  Plushes — why  should  I  ezitate  to  say,  a  Foot- 
man,  forms  the  prinsple  drammitis-pursony.  How  is  my 
border  represented  on  the  British  Stage  I  hast  myself? 
Are  we  spoke  of  respeckful  or  otherwise?  Does  anybody 
snear  at  our  youniform  or  purfeshn?  I  was  determingd  to 
see ;  and  in  case  of  hanythink  inslant  being  said  of  us,  I 

.  took  a  key  with  me  in  border  to  iss  propply;  and  bought 
sevral  horringers  jest  to  make  uce  of  em  if  I  sor  any 

.  nessasaty. 

"  My  dear  Eincer,  I  greave  to  say,  that  though  there 
was  nothink  against  our  purfeshn  said  in  the  pease — and 
though  the  most  delligit  and  sensatif  footman  (and  I've 
known  no  men  of  more  dellixy  of  feelin  and  sensabillaty 
than  a  well-reglated  footman  is  whether  hin  or  hout  of 
livry)  could  find  folt  with  the  langiddge  of  the  New  Com- 
mady of  ^Leap  Year,^  yet  its  prinsples  is  dangerous  to  pub- 
lick  maralaty,  as  likewise  to  our  beloved  purfeshn. 


182        DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


"  The  plot  of  the  Pease  is  f ounderd  upon  a  hancient  Lor, 
which  the  Hauther,  Mr.  Buckstone,  discovvred  in  an  un- 
common hold  book,  and  by  which  it  epars  that  in  Lip- Year 
(or  what's  called  Bissixdile  in  Istronnamy)  it  is  the  women 
who  have  the  libbaty  of  choosing  their  usbands  and  not  as 
in  hornary  times,  the  men  who  choose  their  wives  (I  reck- 
mend  you,  old  feller,  who  are  a  reglar  hold  Batchylor,  to 
look  out  in  the  Ormnack  for  Lip  Year,  and  kip  hout  of  the 
way  that  year),  and  this  pragtice  must  be  common  anough 
in  Hengland,  for  a  commady  is  a  reprasentation  of  natur, 
and  in  this  one,  every  one  of  the  women  asts  every  one  of 
the  men  to  marry :  igsept  one,  and  she  asts  two  of  em. 

"  Oust  upon  a  time  there  was  an  old  genlmn  by  the  name 
of  Flowerdew  as  married  a  young  woman,  who  became  in 
consquince  Mrs.  Flora  Flowerdew.  She  made  this  hold 
buck  so  Appy  during  the  breaf  coarse  of  his  meddrimonial 
career,  that  he  left  a  will,  hordering  her  to  marry  agin 
before  three  years  was  over,  failing  vich,  hevary  shillin  of 
his  proppaty  should  go  to  his  nex  Hair.  Aving  maid  these 
destimentry  errangements  hold  Flowerdew  died.  Peace 
be  to  his  Hashes! 

"His  widder  didn't  cry  much  (for  betwigst  you  and  me 
F.  must  have  been  rayther  a  silly  old  feller),  but  lived  on 
in  a  genteal  manner  in  a  house  somewhere  in  the  drecshon 
of  Amstid  I  should  think,  entertaining  her  friends  like  a 
lady :  and  like  a  lady  she  kep  her  coachman  and  groom  : 
had  her  own  maid,  a  cook  and  housemaid  of  coarse,  a  page 
and  a  Mann. 

"  If  I  had  been  a  widder  I  would  have  choas  a  Man  of  a 
better  Ithe,  than  Mrs.  Folwerjew  did.  Nothink  becomes  a 
footman  so  much  as  Ithe.  It's  that  which  dixtinguidges 
us  from  the  wulgar,  and  I  greave  to  say  i-n  this  pedicklar 
the  gentleman  as  hacted  Villiam  Valker,  Mrs.  F.'s  man, 
was  sadly  defisnt.  He  was  respeckble,  quiet,  horderly, 
hactive — but  his  figger  I  must  say  was  no  go.  You  and 
me,  Rincer,  ave  seen  footmen  and  know  what's  the  proper 
sort — seen  em?  Hah,  what  men  there  was  in  hour  time ! 
Do  you  recklect  Bill  the  Maypole  as  was  with  us  at  Lord 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  183 


Ammersmith's?  What  a  chap  that  was!  what  a  leg  he 
ad!  The  young  men  are  not  like  us,  Tom  Eincer, — but  I 
am  diwerging  from  my  tail,  which  I  reshume. 

"  I  diddnarive  at  the  commensment  of  the  drammer  (for 
their  was  a  Purty  a-settling  his  skower  in  my  Barr  which 
kep  me  a  cumsederable  time),  but  when  I  hentered  the 
theaytre,  I  fown  myself  in  presnts  of  Mr.  &  Mrs.  C.  Kean 
in  a  droring-roomb,  Mrs.  K.  at  a  tabble  pertending  to  right 
letters,  or  to  so  ankyshuffs  or  somethink,  Mr.  K.  a  clasp- 
ing his  &s,  a  rowling  his  his,  and  a  quoating  poatry  & 
Byrom  and  that  sort  of  thing  like  anythink. 

"Mrs.  Kean,  she  was  the  widdo,  and  Mr  K.  he  was 
Villiam,  the  man.  He  wasn't  a  Buttler,  dear  Eincer,  like 
U.  He  wasn't  groom  of  the  Chimbers  like  Mr.  Mewt  at 
my  Lord's  (to  whomb  my  best  complymince),  he  wasn't  a 
mear  footman,  he  wasn't  a  page :  but  he  was  a  mixter  of 
all  4.  He  had  trowzies  like  a  page  with  a  red  strip ;  he 
had  a  coat  like  a  Hunndress  John;  he  had  the  helegant 
mistary  of  Mr.  Mewt,  and  there  was  a  graceful  abanding 
and  a  daggijay  hair  about  which  I  whish  it  was  more 
adopted  in  our  purfeshn. 

"Haltho  in  hour  time,  dear  Eincer,  we  didn  quoat 
Byrom  and  Shikspyer  in  the  droring-room  to  the  ladies  of 
the  famly,  praps  things  is  haltered  sins  the  marge  of  hin- 
talect^  and  the  young  Jeamess  do  talk  potry.  Well,  for 
sevral  years,  during  which  he  had  been  in  Mrs.  F.'s  service. 
Walker  had  been  goin  on  in  this  manner,  and  it  was  heasy 
at  once  to  see  at  the  very  hopening  of  the  pease,  from  the 
manner  of  missis  and  man,  that  there  was  more  than  the 
common  sewillaties  of  a  lady  and  a  genlman  in  livary  goin 
on  between  em,  and  in  one  word  that  they  were  pashintly 
in  love  with  each  other.  This  won't  surprize  you^  Eincer, 
boy ;  and  in  the  coarse  of  my  expearance  I  might  tell  a 
story  or  two— 0  Lady  Harabellar !  but  Honor  forbids,  and 
Im  mumm. 

"Several  shutors  come  to  whoo  the  widow;  but  none, 
and  no  great  wonder,  have  made  an  impreshn  on  her  heart. 
One  she  takes  as  a  husband  on  trial — and  he  went  out  to 


184       DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE. 


dinner  on  the  very  fust  day  of  his  apprentiship,  and  came 
home  intogsicated.  Another  whomb  she  would  not  have, 
a  Captain  in  the  Harmy,  pulls  out  a  bill  when  she  refuses 
him,  and  requests  her  to  pay  for  his  loss  of  time,  and  the 
clothes  he  has  hordered  in  border  to  captiwate  her.  Finely 
the  piece  bends  by  the  widdo  proposing  to  William  Walker, 
her  servant,  and  marrying  that  pusson. 

"I  don't  bask  whether  widdos  take  usbands  on  trial.  I 
do  not  pores  to  inquier  whether  Captings  send  in  bills  of 
costs  for  courtship,  or  igsamming  other  absuddaties  in  this 
Commady.  I  look  it  purfeshnly,  and  I  look  at  it  gravely, 
Eincer.  Hand,  I  can't  help  seeing  that  is  dangerous  to 
our  border,  and  subwussive  of  domestic  maralaty. 

"I  say  there's  a  Prinsple  in  a  lionist  footman  which 
should  make  him  purtest  and  rewolt  aginst  such  doctorings 
as  these.  A  fatle  pashn  may  hapn  hany  day  to  hany 
Mann ;  as  a  chimbly-pott  may  drop  on  his  head,  or  a  hom- 
nibus  drive  hover  him.  We  can't  help  falling  in  love  with 
a  fine  woman — we  are  men :  we  are  fine  men  praps ;  ana 
praps  she  returns  our  harder.  But  what's  the  use  of  it? 
There  can  be  no  marridges  between  footmen  and  families 
in  which  they  live.  There's  a  Lor  of  Natur  against  it, 
and  it  should  be  wrote  in  the  prayer-book  for  the  use  of 
Johns  that  a  man  may  not  marry  his  Missus — If  this 
kind  of  thing  was  to  go  on  hoften,  there  would  be  an  end 
to  domestic  life.  John  would  be  holways  up  in  the  dror- 
ing-room  courting :  or  Miss  would  be  for  hever  down  in 
the  pantry:  you'd  get  no  whirk  done.  How  could  he 
clean  his  plate  propply  with  Miss  holding  one  of  his  ands 
sittin  on  the  knife  bord?  It's  impawsable.  We  may  marry 
in  other  famlies,  but  not  in  our  hown.  We  have  each  our 
spears  as  we  have  each  our  Bells.  Theirs  is  the  fust  flor; 
hours  is  the  basemint.  A  man  who  marris  his  Missis 
hingers  his  purfeshnal  bruthering.  I  would  cut  that  Man 
dedd  who  married  his  Missis.  I  would  blackbawl  him  at 
the  clubb.  Let  it  oust  git  abroad  that  we  do  so,  and 
famlies  will  leave  off  iring  footmen  haltogether  and  be 
weighted  upon  by  maids,  which  the  young  ladies  can't 


I 


/ 


DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  185 

marry  them,  and  I  leave  you  to  say  whether  the  purfeshn 
isn't  a  good  one,  and  whether  it  woodn't  be  a  pity  to 
spoil  it. 

"  Yours  hever,  my  dear  Rincer, 

"To  Mr.  Rincer, 

at  the  Duke  op  Fitzbattleaxe8, 

"Fitzbattleaux  Castle,  Flintshire." 


/ 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH 
REVOLUTION. 


THE 

HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION 

(from  a  forthcoming  history  of  EUROPE.)* 


CHAPTER  I. 

It  is  seldom  that  the  historian  has  to  record  events  more 
singular  than  those  which  occurred  during  this  year,  when 
the  Crown  of  France  was  battled  for  by  no  less  than  four 
pretenders,  with  equal  claims,  merits,  bravery,  and  popu- 
larity.   First  in  the  list  we  place — 

His  Eoyal  Highness,  Louis  Antony  Frederic  Samuel 
Anna-Maria,  Duke  of  Brittany,  and  son  of  Louis  XVI. 
The  unhappy  Prince,  when  a  prisoner  with  his  unfortunate 
parents  in  the  Temple,  was  enabled  to  escape  from  that 
place  of  confinement,  hidden  (for  the  treatment  of  the 
ruffians  who  guarded  him  had  caused  the  young  Prince  to 
dwindle  down  astonishingly)  in  the  cocked  hat  of  the  rep- 
resentative Roederer.  It  is  well  known  that,  in  the  troub- 
lous, revolutionary  times,  cocked  hats  were  worn  of  a  con- 
siderable size. 

He  passed  a  considerable  part  of  his  life  in  Germany ; 
was  confined  there  for  thirty  years  in  the  dungeons  of 
Spielberg;  and,  escaping  thence  to  England,  was,  under 
pretence  of  debt,  but  in  reality  from  political  hatred,  im- 
prisoned there  also  in  the  Tower  of  London.  He  must  not 
be  confounded  with  any  other  of  the  persons  who  laid 
claim  to  be  children  of  the  unfortunate  victim  of  the  first 
revolution. 

*  [This  "History  "  appeared  in  Punch  during  1844.] 


190    HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

The  next  claimant,  Henri  of  Bordeaux,  is  better  known. 
In  the  year  1843,  he  held  his  little  fugitive  Court  in  fur- 
nished lodgings,  in  a  forgotten  district  of  London,  called 
Belgrave  Square.  Many  of  the  nobles  of  France  flocked 
thither  to  him,  despising  the  persecutions  of  the  occupant 
of  the  throne ;  and  some  of  the  chiefs  of  the  British  nobil- 
ity, among  whom  may  be  reckoned  the  celebrated  and  chiv- 
alrous Duke  of  Jenkins,  aided  the  adventurous  young  Prince 
with  their  counsels,  their  wealth,  and  their  valour.  =^ 

The  third  candidate  was  his  Imperial  Highness  Prince 
John  Thomas  Napoleon — a  fourteenth  cousin  of  the  late 
emperor ;  and  said  by  some  to  be  a  Prince  of  the  House  of 
Gomersal.  He  argued  justly,  that,  as  the  immediate  rela- 
tives of  the  celebrated  Corsican  had  declined  to  compete  for 
the  Crown  which  was  their  right,  he.  Prince  John  Thomas, 
being  next  in  succession,  was,  undoubtedly,  heir  to  the 
vacant  Imperial  throne.  And  in  support  of  his  claim,  he 
appealed  to  the  fidelity  of  Frenchmen  and  the  strength  of 
his  good  sword. 

His  Majesty  Louis  Philippe  was,  it  need  not  be  said,  the 
illustrious  wielder  of  the  sceptre  which  the  three  above- 
named  princes  desired  to  wrest  from  him.  It  does  not  ap- 
pear that  the  sagacious  monarch  was  esteemed  by  his  sub- 
jects, as  such  a  prince  should  have  been  esteemed.  The 
light-minded  people,  on  the  contrary,  were  rather  weary 
than  otherwise  of  his  sway.  They  were  not  in  the  least 
attached  to  his  amiable  family,  for  whom  his  Majesty  with 
characteristic  thrift  had  endeavoured  to  procure  satisfactory 
allowances.  And  the  leading  statesmen  of  the  country, 
whom  his  Majesty  had  disgusted,  were  suspected  of  enter- 
taining any  but  feelings  of  loyalty  towards  his  house  and 
person. 

It  was  against  the  three  above-named  pretenders  that 
Louis  Philippe  (now  nearly  a  hundred  years  old),  a  prince 
amongst  sovereigns,  was  called  upon  to  defend  his  crown. 

[Punch  invented  Jenkins  to  personify  The  Morning  Post.  Jen- 
kins was  raised  to  the  peerage  and  dukedom  of  France  by  the  French 
king,  Henry  V.] 


HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  191 


The  city  of  Paris  was  guarded,  as  we  all  know,  by  a 
hundred  and  twenty-four  forts,  of  a  thousand  guns  each ; 
provisioned  for  a  considerable  time,  and  all  so  constructed 
as  to  fire,  if  need  were,  upon  the  Palace  of  the  Tuileries. 
Thus,  should  the  mob  attack  it,  as  in  August,  1792,  and 
July,  1830,  the  building  could  be  razed  to  the  ground  in  an 
hour ;  thus,  too,  the  capital  was  quite  secure  from  foreign 
invasion.  Another  defence  against  the  foreigners  was  the 
state  of  the  roads ;  since  the  English  companies  had  retired, 
half  a  mile  only  of  railroad  had  been  completed  in  France, 
and  thus  any  army  accustomed,  as  those  of  Europe  now  are, 
to  move  at  sixty  miles  an  hour,  would  have  been  ennuye'd 
to  death  before  they  could  have  marched  from  the  Rhenish, 
the  Maritime,  the  Alpine,  or  the  Pyrenean  frontier  upon 
the  capital  of  France.  The  French  people,  however,  were 
indignant  at  this  defect  of  communication  in  their  territory, 
and  said,  without  the  least  show  of  reason,  that  they  would 
have  preferred  that  the  five  hundred  and  seventy-five  thou- 
sand billions  of  francs  which  had  been  expended  upon  the 
fortifications  should  have  been  laid  out  in  a  more  peaceful 
manner.    However,  behind  his  forts,  the  king  lay  secure. 

As  it  is  our  aim  to  depict  in  as  vivid  a  manner  as  possi- 
ble the  strange  events  of  the  period,  the  actions,  the  pas- 
sions of  individuals,  and  parties  engaged,  we  cannot  better 
describe  them  than  by  referring  to  contemporary  documents, 
of  which  there  is  no  lack.  It  is  amusing  at  the  present 
day  to  read  in  the  pages  of  the  Moniteur  and  the  Journal 
des  Debats  the  accounts  of  the  strange  scenes  which  took 
place. 

The  year  1884  had  opened  very  tranquilly.  The  Court 
of  the  Tuileries  had  been  extremely  gay.  The  three-and- 
twenty  youngest  Princes  of  England,  sons  of  her  Majesty 
Victoria,  had  enlivened  the  balls  by  their  presence.  The 
Emperor  of  Russia  and  family  had  paid  their  accustomed 
visit;  and  the  King  of  the  Belgians  had,  as  usual,  made 
his  visit  to  his  royal  father-in-law,  under  pretence  of  duty 
and  pleasure,  but  really  to  demand  payment  of  the  Queen 
of  the  Belgians'  dowry,  which  Louis  Philippe  of  Orleans 

q — Vol.  19 


192    HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


still  resolutely  declined  to  pay.  Who  would  have  thought 
that  in  the  midst  of  such  festivity  danger  was  lurking  rife ; 
in  the  midst  of  such  quiet  rebellion? 

Charenton  was  the  great  lunatic  asylum  of  Paris,  and  it 
was  to  this  repository  that  the  scornful  journalist  consigned 
the  pretender  to  the  throne  of  Louis  XVI. 

But  on  the  next  day,  viz.  Saturday  the  29th  Feb.,  the 
same  journal  contained  a  paragraph  of  a  much  more  star- 
tling and  serious  import ;  in  which,  although  under  a  mask 
of  carelessness,  it  was  easy  to  see  the  Government  alarm. 

On  Friday,  the  28th  Feb.,  the  Journal  des  Debats  Qon- 
tained  a  paragraph,  which  did  not  occasion  much  sensation 
at  the  Bourse,  so  absurd  did  its  contents  seem.  It  ran  as 
follows : — 

Encore  un  Louis  XVII.  !  A  letter  from  Calais  tells  us 
that  a  strange  personage  lately  landed  from  England  (from 
Bedlam  we  believe)  has  been  giving  himself  out  to  be  the 
son  of  the  unfortunate  Louis  XVI.  This  is  the  twenty- 
fourth  pretender  of  the  species  who  has  asserted  that  his 
father  was  the  august  victim  of  the  Temple.  Beyond  his 
pretensions,  the  poor  creature  is  said  to  be  pretty  harmless ; 
he  is  accompanied  by  one  or  two  old  women,  who  declare 
they  recognise  in  him  the  Dauphin ;  he  does  not  make  any 
attempt  to  seize  upon  his  throne  by  force  of  arms,  but  waits 
until  Heaven  shall  conduct  him  to  it. 

If  his  Majesty  comes  to  Paris,  we  presume  he  will  take 
his  quarters  in  the  palace  of  Charenton, 
"  We  have  not  before  alluded  to  certain  rumours  which 
have  been  afloat  (among  the  lowest  canaille^  and  the  vilest 
estaminets  of  the  Metropolis),  that  a  notorious  personage — 
why  should  we  hesitate  to  mention  the  name  of  the  Prince 
John  Thomas  Napoleon? — has  entered  France  with  culpa- 
ble intentions  and  revolutionary  views.  The  Moniteur  of 
this  morning,  however,  confirms  the  disgraceful  fact.  A 
pretender  is  on  our  shores ;  an  armed  assassin  is  threaten- 
ing our  peaceful  liberties;  a  wandering,  homeless  cut-throat 
is  robbing  on  our  highways,  and  the  punishment  of  his 


HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  193 


crime  awaits  him.  Let  no  consideration  of  the  past  deter 
that  just  punishment ;  it  is  the  duty  of  the  legislator  to 
provide  for  the  future.  Let  the  full  powers  of  the  law  be 
brought  against  him,  aided  by  the  stern  justice  of  the  pub- 
lic force.  Let  him  be  tracked,  like  a  wild  beast,  to  his  lair, 
and  meet  the  fate  of  one.  But  the  sentence  has,  ere  this, 
been  certainly  executed.  The  brigand,  we  hear,  has  been 
distributing  (without  any  effect)  pamphlets  among  the  low 
ale-houses  and  peasantry  of  the  department  of  the  Upper 
Ehine  (in  which  he  lurks) ;  and  the  police  have  an  easy 
means  of  tracking  his  footsteps. 

"  Corporal  Crane,  of  the  Gendarmerie,  is  on  the  track  of 
the  uoifortunate  young  man.  His  attempt  will  only  serve 
to  show  the  folly  of  Pretenders,  and  the  love,  respect,  re- 
gard, fidelity,  admiration,  reverence  and  passionate  personal 
attachment  in  which  we  hold  our  beloved  Sovereign.^' 

Second  Edition! — Capture  of  the  Prince! 

"  A  courier  has  just  arrived  at  the  Tuileries  with  a  re- 
port, that  after  a  scuffle  between  Corporal  Crane  and  the 
*  Imperial  Army  ^  in  a  water-barrel,  whither  the  latter  had 
retreated,  victory  has  remained  with  the  former.  A  des- 
perate combat  ensued  in  the  first  place  in  a  hay-loft,  whence 
the  Pretender  was  ejected  with  immense  loss.  He  is  now 
a  prisoner — and  we  dread  to  think  what  his  fate  may  be ! 
It  will  warn  future  aspirants,  and  give  Europe  a  lesson 
which  it  is  not  likely  to  forget.  Above  all,  it  will  set  be- 
yond a  doubt  the  regard,  respect,  admiration,  reverence  and 
adoration  which  we  all  feel  for  our  Sovereign. 

Third  Edition! 

"  A  second  courier  has  arrived — ^the  infatuated  Crane  has 
made  common  cause  with  the  Prince,  and  for  ever  forfeited 
the  respect  of  Frenchmen.  A  detachment  of  the  520th 
Leger  has  marched  in  pursuit  of  the  Pretender  and  his 
dupes.  Go,  Frenchmen,  go  and  conquer!  Remember  that 
it  is  our  rights  you  guard,  our  homes  which  you  march  to 


194    HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


defend;  our  laws  which  are  confided  to  the  points  of  your 
unsullied  bayonets — above  all,  our  dear,  dear  Sovereign, 
around  whose  throne  you  rally ! 

"  Our  feelings  overpower  us.  Men  of  the  520th  remem- 
ber your  watchward  is  Gemappes, — your  countersign, 
Valmy.'^ 


"  The  Emperor  of  Russia  and  his  distinguished  family 
quitted  the  Tuileries  this  day.  His  Imperial  Majesty  em- 
braced his  Majesty  the  King  of  the  French  with  tears  in 
his  eyes,  and  conferred  upon  their  RR.HH.,  the  Princes  of 
Nemours  and  Joinville,  the  grand  cross  of  the  Order  of  the 
Blue  Eagle.'' 


"His  Majesty  passed  a  review  of  the  Police  force — the 
venerable  monarch  was  received  with  deafening  cheers  by 
this  admirable  and  disinterested  body  of  men.  Those 
cheers  were  echoed  in  all  French  hearts :  long,  long  may 
our  beloved  Prince  be  among  us  to  receive  them !  " 


HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  195 


CHAPTEE  II. 

HENRY  V.  AND  NAPOLEON  III. 

Sunda>y,  February  SOth. 

We  resume  our  quotations  from  the  Debats,  which  thus 
introduces  a  third  Pretender  to  the  throne. 

"  Is  this  distracted  country  never  to  have  peace?  While 
on  Friday  we  recorded  the  pretensions  of  a  maniac  to  the 
great  throne  of  France ;  while  on  Saturday  we  were  com- 
pelled to  register  the  culpable  attempts  of  one  whom  we 
regard  as  a  ruffianj  murderer,  swindler,  forger,  burglar, 
and  common  pickpocket,  to  gain  over  the  allegiance  of 
Frenchmen — it  is  to-day  our  painful  duty  to  announce  a 
thi7'd  invasion — yes,  a  third  invasion.  The  wretched,  su- 
perstitious, fanatic  Duke  of  Bordeaux  has  landed  at  Nantz, 
and  has  summoned  the  Vendeans  and  the  Bretons  to  mount 
the  white  cockade. 

"  Grand  Dieti  I  are  we  not  happy,  under  the  tricolour? 
Do  we  not  repose  under  the  majestic  shadow  of  the  best  of 
kings?  Is  there  any  name  prouder  than  that  of  French- 
man; any  subject  more  happy  than  that  of  our  sovereign? 
Does  not  the  whole  French  family  adore  their  father?  Yes. 
Our  lives,  our  hearts,  our  blood,  our  fortune,  are  at  his  dis- 
posal. It  was  not  in  vain  that  we  raised,  it  is  not  the  first 
time  we  have  rallied  round,  the  august  throne  of  July. 
The  unhappy  duke  is  most  likely  a  prisoner  by  this  time ; 
and  the  martial  court  which  shall  be  called  upon  to  judge 
one  infamous  traitor  and  Pretender,  may  at  the  same  mo- 
ment judge  another.  Away  with  both !  let  the  ditch  of 
Vincennes  (which  has  been  already  fatal  to  his  race)  receive 
his  body  too,  and  with  it  the  corpse  of  the  other  Pretender. 
Thus  will  a  great  crime  be  wiped  out  of  history,  and  the 
manes  of  a  slaughtered  martyr  avenged ! 

"One  word  more.  We  hear  that  the  Duke  of  Jenkins 
accompanies  the  descendant  of  Caroline  of  Naples — an 


196    HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


English  Duke,  entendez-voiis !  an  English  Duke,  great 
Heaven !  and  the  princes  of  England  still  dancing  in  our 
royal  halls!  Where,  where  will  the  perfidy  of  Albion 
end?  " 


"  The  King  reviewed  the  third  and  fourth  battalions  of 
police.  The  usual  heartrending  cheers  accompanied  the 
monarch,  who  looked  younger  than  ever  we  saw  him — ay, 
as  young  as  when  he  faced  the  Austrian  cannon  at  Valmy, 
and  scattered  their  squadrons  at  Gemappes. 

Rations  of  liquor,  and  crosses  of  the  Legion  of  Honour, 
were  distributed  to  all  the  men. 

"The  English  princes  quitted  the  Tuileries  in  twenty- 
three  coaches  and  four  They  were  not  rewarded  with 
crosses  of  the  Legion  of  Honour.    This  is  significant." 


"  The  Dukes  of  Joinville  and  Nemours  left  the  palace  for 
the  departments  of  the  Loire  and  Upper  Rhine,  where  they 
will  take  the  command  of  the  troops.  The  Joinville  regi- 
ment, cavalerie  de  la  marine y  is  one  of  the  finest  in  the 
service." 


"  Orders  have  been  given  to  arrest  the  fanatic  who  calls 
himself  Duke  of  Brittany,  and  who  has  ^been  making  some 
disturbances  in  the  Fas  de  Calais, 


"  Anecdote  of  His  Majesty. — At  the  review  of  troops 
(police)  yesterday.  His  Majesty  going  up  to  one  old  gro- 
gnard,  and  pulling  him  by  the  ear,  said,  '  Wilt  thou  have  a 
cross  or  another  ration  of  wine?  ^  The  old  hero,  smiling 
archly,  answered,  '  Sire,  a  brave  man  can  gain  a  cross  any 
day  of  battle,  but  it  is  hard  for  him  sometimes  to  get  a 
drink  of  wine.'  We  need  not  say  that  he  had  his  drink, 
and  the  generous  Sovereign  sent  him  the  cross  and  ribbon 
too.'' 


On  the  next  day  the  government  journals  begin  to  write 


HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  197 


in  rather  a  despondent  tone,  regarding  the  progress  of  the 
Pretenders  to  the  throne.  In  spite  of  their  big  talking, 
anxiety  is  clearly  manifested,  as  appears  from  the  follow- 
ing remarks  of  the  Dehats  : — 

"The  courier  from  the  Rhine  departments,"  says  the 
Dehats,  "  brings  ns  the  following  astounding  proclamation : 

"  '  Strasbiirg,  xxii.  Niwse  :  Decadi  ;  92nd  year 
of  the  Republic^  one  and  indivisible. 
We,  John  Thomas  N'apoleon,  by  the  Constitutions  of 
the  Empire,  Emperor  of  the  French  Republic,  to  our  mar- 
shals, generals,  officers  and  soldiers,  greeting : 
"^Soldiers! 

" '  From  the  summit  of  the  Pyramids,  forty  centuries 
look  down  upon  you.  The  sun  of  Austerlitz  has  risen 
once  more.  The  guard  dies,  but  never  surrenders.  My 
eagles,  flying  from  steeple  to  steeple,  never  shall  droop  till 
they  perch  on  the  towers  of  NTotre  Dame. 

"  ^  Soldiers !  the  child  of  yoicr  Father  has  remained  long 
in  exile.  I  have  seen  the  fields  of  Europe  where  your 
laurels  are  now  withering,  and  I  have  communed  with  the 
dead  who  repose  beneath  them.  They  ask  where  are  our 
children!  Where  is  France!  Europe  no  longer  glitters 
with  the  shine  of  its  triumphant  bayonets — echoes  no  more 
with  the  shouts  of  its  victorious  cannon.  Who  could  reply 
to  such  a  question,  save  with  a  blush? — And  does  a  blush 
become  the  cheeks  of  Frenchmen? 

"  ^  No,  let  us  wipe  from  our  faces  that  degrading  mark 
of  shame.  Come,  as  of  old,  and  rally  round  my  eagles! 
You  have  been  subject  to  fiddling  prudence  long  enough. 
Come,  worship  now  at  the  shrine  of  Glory!  You  have 
been  promised  liberty,  but  you  have  had  none.  I  will  en- 
dow you  with  the  true,  the  real  freedom.  When  your 
ancestors  burst  over  the  Alps,  were  they  not  free?  Yes : 
free  to  conquer.  Let  us  imitate  the  example  of  those  in- 
domitable myriads ;  and,  flinging  a  defiance  to  Europe,  once 
more  trample  over  her ;  march  in  triumph  into  her  prostrate 
capitals,  and  bring  her  kings  with  her  treasures  at  our  feet. 
This  is  the  liberty  worthy  of  Frenchmen. 


198    HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


"  ^  Frenchmen !  I  promise  you  that  the  Ehine  shall  be 
restored  to  you;  and  that  England  shall  rank  no  more 
among  the  nations.  I  will  have  a  marine  that  shall  drive 
her  ships  from  the  seas ;  a  few  of  my  brave  regiments  will 
do  the  rest.  Henceforth,  the  traveller[in  that  desert  island 
shall  ask,  "  Was  it  this  wretched  corner  of  the  world  that 
for  a  thousand  years  defied  Frenchmen?  " 

" '  Frenchmen,  up  and  rally ! — I  have  flung  my  banner  to 
the  breezes ;  ^tis  surrounded  by  the  faithful  and  the  brave : 
— up,  and  let  our  motto  be,  liberty,  equality,  war  all 

OVER  THE  WORLD  !  ISTaPOLEON  III. 

The  Marshal  of  the  Emjpire,  Haricot.^ 

"  Such  is  the  Proclamation !  such  the  hopes  that  a  brutal- 
minded  and  bloody  adventurer  holds  out  to  our  country. 
*  War  all  over  the  world '  is  the  cry  of  the  savage  demon ; 
and  the  fiends  who  have  rallied  round  him  echo  it  in  con- 
cert. We  were  not,  it  appears,  correct  in  stating  that  a 
corporal's  guard  had  been  sufiicient  to  seize  upon  the  ma- 
rauder, when  the  first  fire  would  have  served  to  conclude  his 
miserable  life.    But,  like  a  hideous  disease,  the  contagion 

-  has  spread ;  the  remedy  must  be  dreadful.  Woe  to  those 
on  whom  it  will  fall ! 

"His  Eoyal  Highness  the  Prince  of  Joinville,  Admiral 
of  France,  has  hastened,  as  we  before  stated,  to  the  dis- 

_  turbed  districts,  and  takes  with  him  his  cavalerie  de  la 
marine.    It  is  hard  to  think  that  the  blades  of  those  chiv- 

_  alrous  heroes  must  be  buried  in  the  bosoms  of  Frenchmen; 

_  but  so  be  it ;  it  is  those  monsters  who  have  asked  for  blood ; 
not  we.  It  is  those  ruffians  who  have  begun  to  quarrel ; 
not  we.  We  remain  calm  and  hopeful,  reposing  under  the 
protection  of  the  dearest  and  best  of  sovereigns. 

"  The  wretched  Pretender,  who  called  himself  Duke  of 
Brittany,  has  been  seized,  according  to  our  prophecy ;  he 
was  brought  before  the  Prefect  of  Police  yesterday,  and  his 
insanity  being  proved  beyond  a  doubt,  he  has  been  con- 
signed to  a  strait-waistcoat  at  Charenton.  So  may  all  in- 
cendiary enemies  of  our  Government  be  overcome! 


HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  199 


"  His  Eoyal  Highness  the  Duke  of  Kemours  is  gone  into 
the  department  of  the  Loire,  where  he  will  speedily  put  an 
end  to  the  troubles  in  the  disturbed  districts  of  the  Bocage 
and  La  Vendee.  The  foolish  young  Prince,  who  has  there 
raised  his  standard,  is  followed,  we  hear,  by  a  small  num- 
ber of  wretched  persons,  of  whose  massacre  we  expect  every 
moment  to  receive  the  news.  He  too  has  issued  his  proc- 
lamation, and  our  readers  will  smile  at  its  contents : 

" '  We,  Henry,  Fifth  of  the  Name,  King  of  France  and 
Navarre,  to  all  whom  it  may  concern,  greeting : 

"  ^  After  years  of  exile  we  have  once  more  unfurled  in 
France  the  banner  of  the  lilies.  Once  more  the  white 
plume  of  Henri  IV.  floats  in  the  crest  of  his  little  son ! 
(petit  jils).  Gallant  nobles!  worthy  burgesses!  honest 
commons  of  my  realm,  I  call  upon  you  to  rally  round  the 
oriflamme  of  France,  and  summon  the  ban  and  arriere-ban 
of  my  kingdoms.  To  my  faithful  Bretons  I  need  no  ap- 
peal. The  country  of  Duguesclin  has  loyalty  for  an  heir- 
loom. To  the  rest  of  my  subjects,  my  atheist  misguided 
subjects,  their  father  makes  one  last  appeal.  Come  to  me, 
my  children!  your  errors  shall  be  forgiven.  Our  holy 
Father,  the  Pope,  shall  intercede  for  you.  He  promised  it 
when,  before  my  departure  on  this  expedition,  I  kissed  his 
inviolable  toe ! 

" '  Our  afflicted  country  cries  aloud  for  reforms.  The  in- 
famous universities  shall  be  abolished.  Education  shall  no 
longer  be  permitted.  A  sacred  and  wholesome  inquisition 
shall  be  established.  My  faithful  nobles  shall  pay  no 
more  taxes.  All  the  venerable  institutions  of  our  country 
shall  be  restored  as  they  existed  before  1788.  Convents 
and  monasteries  again  shall  ornament  our  country — the 
calm  nurseries  of  saints  and  holy  women !  Heresy  shall 
be  extirpated  with  paternal  severity  and  our  country  shall 
be  free  once  more. 

" '  His  Majesty  the  King  of  Ireland,  my  august  ally,  has 
sent,  under  the  command  of  His  Royal  Highness  Prince 
Daniel,  his  Majesty's  youngest  son,  an  irresistible  Irish 


200    HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


Brigade,  to  co-operate  in  the  good  work.  His  Grace  the 
Lion  of  Judah,  the  canonised  patriarch  of  Tuam,  blessed 
their  green  banner  before  they  set  forth.  Henceforth  may 
the  lilies  and  the  harp  be  ever  twined  together.  Together 
we  will  make  a  crusade  against  the  infidels  of  Albion,  and 
raze  their  heretic  domes  to  the  ground.  Let  our  cry  be 
Vive  France!  down  with  England!    Montjoie  St.  Denis! 

"  *  By  the  King. 

"*The  Secretary  of  State  and 

Grand  Inquisitor.  La  Roue. 

The  Marshal  of  France.  Pompadour  de  I'Aile  de  Pigeon. 

The  General  Commander-in- 

Chief  of  the  Irish  Brigade 

in  the  service  of  his  Most 

Christian  Majesty,  Daniel,  Prince  of  Bally  bunion. 

"'Henri.'" 

"His  Majesty  reviewed  the  admirable  police  force  and 
held  a  council  of  ministers  in  the  afternoon.  Measures 
were  concerted  for  the  instant  putting  down  of  the  disturb- 
ances in  the  departments  of  the  Rhine  and  Loire,  and  it  is 
arranged  that  on  the  capture  of  the  Pretenders  they  shall 
be  lodged  in  separate  cells  in  the  prison  of  the  Luxem- 
bourg ;  the  apartments  are  already  prepared,  and  the  offi- 
cers at  their  post. 

"  The  grand  banquet  that  was  to  be  given  at  the  palace 
to-day  to  the  diplomatic  body,  has  been  put  off ;  all  the 
ambassadors  being  attacked  with  illness,  which  compels 
them  to  stay  at  home.'^ 


"  The  ambassadors  despatched  couriers  to  their  various 
governments.^^ 


"  His  Majesty,  the  King  of  Belgium,  left  the  Palace  of 
the  Tuileries.^^ 


HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  201 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  ADVANCE  OF  THE  PRETENDERS— HISTORICAL 

REVIEW. 

We  will  now  resume  the  narrative,  and  endeavour  to 
compress,  in  a  few  comprehensive  pages,  the  facts  which 
are  more  diffusely  described  in  the  print  from  which  we 
have  quoted. 

It  was  manifest,  then,  that  the  troubles  in  the  depart- 
ment were  of  a  serious  nature,  and  that  the  forces  gathered 
round  the  two  Pretenders  to  the  crown  were  considerable* 
They  had  their  supporters  too  in  Paris, — as  what  party 
indeed  has  not?  and  the  venerable  occupant  of  the  throne 
was  in  a  state  of  considerable  anxiety,  and  found  his  de- 
clining years  by  no  means  so  comfortable  as  his  virtues  and 
great  age  might  have  warranted. 

His  paternal  heart  was  the  more  grieved  when  he  thought 
of  the  fate  reserved  to  his  children,  grandchildren,  and 
great-grandchildren,  now  sprung  up  round  him  in  vast 
numbers.  The  king's  grandson,  the  prince-royal,  married 
to  a  x)rincess  of  the  house  of  Schlippen  Schloppen,  was  the 
father  of  fourteen  children,  all  handsomely  endowed  with 
pensions  by  the  state.  His  brother,  the  Count  D'Eu,  was 
similarly  blessed  with  a  multitudinous  offspring.  The 
Duke  of  Nemours  had  no  children;  but  the  Princes  of 
Joinville,  Aumale,  and  Montpensier  (married  to  the  Prin- 
cesses Januaria  and  Februaria,  of  Brazil,  and  the  Princess 
of  the  United  States  of  America,  erected  into  a  monarchy 
4th  July,  1856,  under  the  Emperor  Duff  Green  I.)  were 
the  happy  fathers  of  immense  families — all  liberally  ap- 
portioned by  the  Chambers,  which  had  long  been  entirely 
subservient  to  His  Majesty  Louis  Philippe. 

The  Duke  of  Aumale  was  King  of  Algeria,  having  mar- 
ried (in  the  first  instance)  the  Princess  Badroulboudour,  a 


202    HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


daughter  of  His  Highness  Abd-El-Kader.  The  Prince  of 
Joinville  was  adored  by  the  nation,  on  account  of  his 
famous  victory  over  the  English  fleet,  under  the  command 
of  Admiral  the  Prince  of  Wales,  whose  ship,  the  Richard 
Cohdeuy  of  120  guns,  was  taken  by  the  Belle-Poide,  frigate 
of  36,  on  which  occasion  forty-five  other  ships  of  war  and 
seventy-nine  steam  frigates,  struck  their  colours  to  about 
one-fourth  the  number  of  the  heroic  French  navy.  The 
victory  was  mainly  owing  to  the  gallantry  of  the  celebrated 
French  Horse-marines,  who  executed  several  brilliant 
charges  under  the  orders  of  the  intrepid  Joinville;  and 
though  the  Irish  brigade,  with  their  ordinary  modesty, 
claimed  the  honours  of  the  day,  yet,  as  only  three  of  that 
nation  were  present  in  the  action,  impartial  history  must 
award  the  palm  to  the  intrepid  sons  of  Gaul. 

With  so  numerous  a  family  quartered  on  the  nation,  the 
solicitude  of  the  admirable  King  may  be  conceived  lest  a 
revolution  should  ensue,  and  fling  them  on  the  world  once 
more«  How  could  he  support  so  numerous  a  family?  Con- 
siderable as  his  wealth  was  (for  he  was  known  to  have 
amassed  about  a  hundred  and  thirteen  billions,  which  were 
lying  in  the  caves  of  the  Tuileries),  yet  such  a  sum  was 
quite  insignificant  when  divided  among  his  progeny — and, 
besides,  he  naturally  preferred  getting  from  the  nation  as 
much  as  his  faithful  people  could  possibly  afford. 

Seeing  the  imminency  of  the  danger,  and  that  money, 
well  applied,  is  often  more  efiicacious  than  the  conqueror's 
sword,  the  King's  ministers  were  anxious  that  he  should 
devote  a  part  of  his  savings  to  the  carrying  on  of  the  war. 
But,  with  the  cautiousness  of  age,  the  monarch  declined 
this  offer ;  he  preferred,  he  said,  throwing  himself  upon  his 
faithful  people,  who,  he  was  sure,  would  meet,  as  became 
them,  the  coming  exigency.  The  Chambers  met  his  appeal 
with  their  usual  devotion.  At  a  solemn  convocation  of 
those  legislative  bodies,  the  King,  surrounded  by  his  fam- 
ily, explained  the  circumstances  and  the  danger.  His  Maj- 
esty, his  family,  his  Ministers,  and  the  two  Chambers,  then 
burst  into  tears,  according  to  immemorial  usage,  and  rais- 


HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FEENCH  REVOLUTION.  203 


ing  their  hands  to  the  ceiling,  swore  eternal  fidelity  to  the 
dynasty  and  to  France,  and  embraced  each  other  affectingly 
all  round. 

It  need  not  be  said  that  in  the  course  of  that  evening, 
two  hundred  deputies  of  the  Left  left  Paris,  and  joined  the 
Prince  John  Thomas  Napoleon,  who  was  now  advanced  as 
far  as  Dijon — two  hundred  and  fifty-three  (of  the  Eight, 
the  centre,  and  round  the  corner),  similarly  quitted  the 
Capital  to  pay  their  homage  to  the  Duke  of  Bordeaux — they 
were  followed,  according  to  their  several  political  predilec- 
tions, by  the  various  Ministers  and  dignitaries  of  state. 
The  only  Minister  who  remained  in  Paris  was  Marshal 
Thiers,  Prince  of  Waterloo  (he  had  defeated  the  English 
in  the  very  field  where  they  had  obtained  formerly  a  suc- 
cess, though  the  victory  was  as  usual  claimed  by  the  Irish 
brigade);  but  age  had  ruined  the  health,  and  diminished 
the  immense  strength  of  that  gigantic  leader,  and  it  is  said 
his  only  reason  for  remaining  in  Paris  v/as  because  a  fit  of 
the  gout  kept  him  in  bed. 

The  Capital  was  entirely  tranquil.  The  theatres  and 
cafes  were  open  as  usual,  and  the  masked  balls  attended 
with  great  enthusiasm — confiding  in  their  hundred  and 
twenty-four  forts,  the  light-minded  people  had  nothing  to 
fear. 

Except  in  the  way  of  money,  the  king  left  nothing  un- 
done to  conciliate  his  people.  He  even  went  among  them 
with  his  umbrella,  but  they  were  little  touched  with  that 
mark  of  confidence.  He  shook  hands  with  everybody;  he 
distributed  crosses  of  the  legion  of  honour  in  such  multi- 
tudes, that  red  ribband  rose  two  hundred  per  cent  in  the 
market  (by  which  his  Majesty,  who  speculated  in  the  article, 
cleared  a  tolerable  sum  of  money).  But  these  blandish- 
ments and  honours  had  little  effect  upon  an  apathetic  peo- 
ple ;  and  the  enemy  of  the  Orleans  Dynasty,  the  fashionable 
young  nobles  of  the  Henriquinquiste  party,  wore  gloves  per- 
petually, for  fear  (they  said)  they  should  be  obliged  to  shake 
hands  with  the  best  of  kings;  while  the  Kepublicans 
adopted  coats  without  button-holes,  lest  they  should  be 


-204    HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


forced  to  hang  red  ribbons  in  them.  The  funds  did  not 
fluctuate  in  the  least. 

The  proclamation  of  the  several  pretenders  had  had  their 
effect.  The  young  men  of  the  schools  and  the  estaminets 
(celebrated  places  of  public  education),  allured  by  the  noble 
words  of  Prince  JSTapoleon,  "  Liberty,  equality,  war  all  over 
the  world ! flocked  to  his  standard  in  considerable  numbers ; 
while  the  noblesse  naturally  hastened  to  offer  their  alle- 
giance to  the  legitimate  descendant  of  Saint  Louis. 

And  truly,  never  was  there  seen  a  more  brilliant  chivalry 
than  that  collected  round  the  gallant  Prince  Henry !  There 
was  not  a  man  in  his  army  but  had  lacquered  boots  and 
fresh  white  kid  gloves  at  morning  and  evening  parade. 
The  fantastic  and  elfeminate,  but  brave  and  faithful  troops, 
were  numbered  off  into  different  legions — there  was  the 
Fleur  d' Orange  regiment;  the  Eau  de  Eose  battalion;  the 
Violet-pomatum  Volunteers ;  the  Eau  de  Cologne  cavalry — 
according  to  the  different  scents  which  they  affected.  Most 
of  the  warriors  wore  lace  ruiBfles ;  all  powder  and  pig-tails, 
as  in  the  real  days  of  chivalry.  A  band  of  heavy  dragoons 
under  the  command  of  Count  Alfred  de  Horsay,  made 
themselves  conspicuous  for  their  discipline,  cruelty,  and 
the  admirable  cut  of  their  coats ;  and  with  these  celebrated 
horsemen  came  from  England  the  illustrious  Duke  of  Jen- 
kins with  his  superb  footmen.  They  were  all  six  feet 
high.  They  all  wore  bouquets  of  the  richest  flowers. 
They  wore  bags,  their  hair  slightly  powdered,  brilliant 
shoulder-knots,  and  cocked  hats  laced  with  gold.  They 
wore  the  tight  knee-pantaloon  of  velveteen,  peculiar  to  this 
portion  of  the  British  infantry;  and  their  legs  were  so 
superb,  that  the  Duke  of  Bordeaux  embracing  with  tears 
their  admirable  leader  on  parade,  said,  "Jenkins,  France 
never  saw  such  calves  until  now.''  The  weapon  of  this  tre- 
mendous militia  was  an  immense  club  or  cane,  reaching 
from  the  sole  of  the  foot  to  the  nose,  and  heavily  mounted 
with  gold.  Nothing  could  stand  before  this  terrific  weapon, 
and  the  breastplates  and  plumed  morions  of  the  French 
Cuirassiers  would  have  been  undoubtedly  crushed  beneath 


HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  205 


them,  had  they  ever  met  in  mortal  combat.  Between  this 
part  of  the  Princess  forces  and  the  Irish  auxiliaries  there  was 
a  deadly  animosity.  Alas,  there  always  is  such  in  camps! 
The  sons  of  Albion  had  not  forgotten  the  day  when  the 
children  of  Erin  had  been  subject  to  their  devastating  sway. 

The  uniform  of  the  latter  was  various — the  rich  stuff 
called  corijs-du-voy  (worn  by  Coeur-de-Lion  at  Agincourt) 
formed  their  lower  habiliments  for  the  most  part :  the  na- 
tional frieze  ^  yielded  them  tail  coats.  The  latter  were 
generally  torn  in  a  fantastic  manner  at  the  elbows,  skirts 
and  collars,  and  fastened  with  every  variety  of  button, 
tape  and  string.  Their  weapons  were  the  caubeen,  the 
alpeen,  and  the  doodeen,  of  the  country — the  latter  a  short 
but  dreadful  weapon  of  offence.  At  the  demise  of  the 
venerable  Theobald  Mathew,  the  nation  had  laid  aside  its 
habit  of  temperance,  and  universal  intoxication  betokened 
their  grief;  it  became  afterwards  their  constant  habit. 
Thus  do  men  ever  return  to  the  haunts  of  their  childhood, 
such  a  power  has  fond  memory  over  us !  The  leaders  of 
this  host  seem  to  have  been,  however,  an  effeminate  race ; 
they  are  represented  by  contemporary  historians  as  being 
passionately  fond  of  flying  kites.  Others  say  they  went 
into  battle  armed  with  bills, no  doubt  rude  weapons; 
for  it  is  stated  that  foreigners  could  never  be  got  to  accept 
them  in  lieu  of  their  own  arms.  The  Princes  of  Mayo, 
Sligo,  and  Connemara,  marched  by  the  side  of  their  young 
and  royal  chieftain,  the  Prince  of  Ballybunion,  fourth  son 
of  Daniel  the  First,  King  of  the  Emerald  Isle. 

Two  hosts  then,  one  under  the  Eagles,  and  surrounded 
by  the  republican  imperialists,  the  other  under  the  antique 
French  Lilies,  were  marching  on  the  French  capital.  The 
Duke  of  Brittany,  too,  confined  in  the  Lunatic  Asylum  of 
Charenton,  found  means  to  issue  a  protest  against  his  cap- 
tivity which  caused  only  derision  in  the  capital.  Such  was 
the  state  of  the  empire,  and  such  the  clouds  that  were  gath- 
ering round  the  Sun  of  Orleans! 

*  Were  these  in  any  way  related  to  the  cliemux  de  frise,  on  which 
the  French  cavalry  were  mounted? 


206    HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  BATTLE  OF  RHEIMS. 

It  was  not  the  first  time  that  the  king  had  had  to 
undergo  misfortunes ;  and  now,  as  then,  he  met  them  like 
a  man.  The  Prince  of  Joinville  was  not  successful  in  his 
campaign  against  the  Imperial  Pretender ;  and  that  bravery 
which  had  pat  the  British  fleets  to  flight,  was  found,  as 
might  be  expected,  insuflicient  against  the  irresistible  cour- 
age of  native  Frenchmen.  The  Horse-Marines,  not  being 
on  their  own  element,  could  not  act  with  their  usual  effect. 
Accustomed  to  the  tumult  of  the  swelling  seas,  they  were 
easily  unsaddled  on  terra  firma  and  in  the  Champagne 
country. 

It  was  literally  in  the  Champagne  country  that  the  meet- 
ing between  the  troops  under  Joinville  and  Prince  Napoleon 
took  place;  for  both  armies  had  reached  Rheims,  and  a 
terrific  battle  was  fought  underneath  the  walls.  For  some 
time  nothing  could  dislodge  the  army  of  Joinville,  en- 
trenched in  the  champagne  cellars  of  Messrs.  Ruinart, 
Moet,  and  others ;  but  making  too  free  with  the  fascinat- 
ing liquor,  the  army  at  length  became  entirely  drunk ;  on  ^ 
which  the  Imperialists,  rushing  into  the  cellars,  had  an 
easy  victory  over  them ;  and,  this  done,  proceeded  to  in- 
toxicate themselves  likewise. 

The  Prince  of  Joinville,  seeing  the  deroute  of  his  troops, 
was  compelled  with  a  few  faithful  followers  to  fly  towards 
Paris,  and  Prince  Napoleon  remained  master  of  the  field 
of  battle.  It  is  needless  to  recapitulate  the  bulletin  which 
he  published  the  day  after  the  occasion,  so  soon  as  he  and 
his  secretaries  were  in  a  condition  to  write.  Eagles,  pyra- 
mids, rainbows,  the  Sun  of  Austerlitz,  etc.,  figured  in  the 
#  proclamation,  in  close  imitation  of  his  illustrious  uncle. 
But  the  great  benefit  of  the  action  was  this :  on  arousing 


HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  207 


from  their  intoxication,  the  late  soldiers  of  Joinville  kissed 
and  embraced  their  comrades  of  the  Imperial  army,  and 
made  common  cause  with  them. 

^'  Soldiers !  "  said  the  Prince,  on  reviewing  them  the  sec- 
ond day  after  the  action.  ^^The  Cock  is  a  gallant  bird; 
but  he  makes  way  for  the  Eagle !  your  colours  are  not 
changed.  Ours  floated  on  the  walls  of  Mosco^v — yours  on 
the  ramparts  of  Constantine ;  both  are  glorious.  Soldiers 
of  Joinville!  we  give  you  welcome,  as  we  would  welcome 
your  illustrious  leader,  who  destroyed  the  fleets  of  Albion. 
Let  him  join  us!  We  will  march  together  against  that 
perfidious  enemy ! 

"  But,  Soldiers !  intoxication  dimmed  the  laurels  of  yes- 
terday's  glorious  day!  Let  us  drink  no  more  of  the  fasci- 
nating liquors  of  our  native  Champagne.  Let  us  remember 
Hannibal  and  Capua;  and,  before  we  plunge  into  dissipa- 
tion, that  we  have  Kome  still  to  conquer! 

"  Soldiers !  Seltzer  water  is  good  after  too  much  drink. 
Wait  a  while,  and  your  Emperor  will  lead  you  into  a 
Seltzer-water  country.  Frenchmen!  it  lies  beyond  the 
bhine!  " 

Deafening  shouts  of  "  Vive  V  Empereur  !  "  saluted  this 
allusion  of  the  Prince,  and  the  army  knew  that  their  nat- 
ural boundary  should  be  restored  to  them.  The  compli- 
ments to  the  gallantry  of  the  Prince  of  Joinville  likewise 
won  all  hearts,  and  immensely  advanced  the  Prince's 
cause.  The  Journal  des  Dehats  did  not  know  which  way 
to  turn.  In  one  paragraph  it  called  the  Emperor  "  a  san- 
guinary tyrant,  murderer  and  pickpocket ;  in  a  second  it 
owned  he  was  "  a  magnanimous  rebel,  and  worthy  of  for- 
giveness ;  and,  after  proclaiming  "  the  brilliant  victory 
of  the  Prince  of  Joinville, presently  denominated  it  a 
fimeste  journee. 

The  next  day  the  Emperor,  as  we  may  now  call  him^ 
was  about  to  march  on  Paris,  when  Messrs.  Ruinart  and 
Moet  were  presented,  and  requested  to  be  paid  for  300,000 
bottles  of  wine.  "  Send  three  hundred  thousand  more  to 
the  Tuileries,''  said  the  Prince,  sternly;  "our  soldiers  will 


208    HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


be  thirsty  when  they  reach  Paris ; "  and  taking  Moet  with 
him  as  a  hostage,  and  promising  Ruinart  that  he  would 
have  him  shot  unless  he  obeyed — with  trumpets  playing 
and  eagles  glancing  in  the  sun,  the  gallant  Imperial  army 
marched  on  their  triumphant  way. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  209 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  BATTLE  OF  TOURS. 

We  have  now  to  record  the  expedition  of  the  Prince  of 
Nemours  against  his  advancing  cousin,  Henry  V.  His 
Koyal  Highness  could  not  march  against  the  enemy  with 
such  a  force  as  he  would  have  desired  to  bring  against 
them,  for  his  royal  father,  wisely  remembering  the  vast 
amount  of  ]3roperty  he  had  stowed  away  under  the  Tui- 
leries,  refused  to  allow  a  single  soldier  to  quit  the  forts 
round  the  Capital,  which  thus  was  defended  by  one  hun- 
dred and  forty-four  thousand  guns  (eighty-four  pounders), 
and  four  hundred  and  thirty-two  thousand  men : — little 
enough,  when  one  considers  that  there  were  but  three  men 
to  a  gun.  To  provision  this  immense  army,  and  a  popula- 
tion of  double  the  amount  within  the  walls,  his  Majesty 
caused  the  country  to  be  scoured  for  fifty  miles  round,  and 
left  neither  ox,  nor  ass,  nor  blade  of  grass.  When  ap- 
pealed to  by  the  inhabitants  of  the  plundered  district,  the 
Koyal  Philip  replied,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  that  his  heart 
bled  for  them — that  they  were  his  children — that  every  cow 
taken  from  the  meanest  peasant  was  like  a  limb  torn  from 
his  own  body ;  but  that  duty  must  be  done,  that  the  inter- 
ests of  the  country  demanded  the  sacrifice,  and  that  in  fact 
they  might  go  to  the  deuce — this  the  unfortunate  creatures 
certainly  did. 

The  theatres  went  on  as  usual  within  the  walls.  The 
Journal  des  Dehats  stated  every  day  that  the  Pretenders 
were  taken;  the  Chambers  sat — such  as  remained,  and 
talked  immensely  about  honour,  dignity,  and  the  glorious 
revolution  of  July ;  and  the  King,  as  his  power  was  now 
pretty  nigh  absolute  over  them,  thought  this  a  good  oppor- 
tunity to  bring  in  a  Bill  for  doubling  his  children's  allow- 
ances all  round. 


210    HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


Meanwhile  the  Duke  of  Nemours  proceeded  on  his  march ; 
and  as  there  was  nothing  left  within  fifty  miles  of  Paris 
wherewith  to  support  his  famished  troops,  it  may  be  im- 
agined that  he  was  forced  to  ransack  the  next  fifty  miles 
in  order  to  maintain  them.  He  did  so.  But  the  troops 
were  not  such  as  they  should  have  been,  considering  the 
enemy  with  whom  they  had  to  engage. 

The  fact  is,  that  most  of  the  Duke's  army  consisted  of 
the  National  Guard ;  who,  in  a  fit  of  enthusiasm,  and  at 
the  cry  of  "  La  patrie  en  danger  "  having  been  induced  to 
volunteer,  had  been  eagerly  accepted  by  his  Majesty, 
anxious  to  lessen  as  much  as  possible  the  number  of  food- 
consumers  in  his  beleaguered  capital.  It  is  said  even  that 
he  selected  the  most  gormandising  battalions  of  the  civic 
force  to  send  forth  against  the  enemy;  viz.,  the  grocers, 
the  rich  bankers,  the  lawyers,  etc.  Their  parting  with 
their  families  was  very  affecting.  They  would  have  been 
very  willing  to  recall  their  offer  of  marching,  but  com- 
panies of  stern  veterans  closing  round  them,  marched  them 
to  the  city  gates,  which  were  closed  upon  them ;  and  thus 
perforce  they  were  compelled  to  move  on.  As  long  as  he 
had  a  bottle  of  brandy  and  a  couple  of  sausages  in  his 
holsters,  the  general  of  the  National  Guard,  Odillon 
Barrot,  talked  with  tremendous  courage.  Such  was  the 
power  of  his  eloquence  over  the  troops,  that,  could  he  have 
come  up  with  the  enemy  while  his  victuals  lasted,  the  issue 
of  the  combat  might  have  been  very  different.  But  in  the 
course  of  the  first  day's  march  he  finished  both  the  sau- 
sages and  the  brandy,  and  became  quite  uneasy,  silent,  and 
crest-fallen. 

It  was  on  the  fair  plains  of  Touraine,  by  the  banks  of 
silver  Loire,  that  the  armies  sate  down  before  each  other, 
and  the  battle  was  to  take  place  which  had  such  an  effect 
upon  the  fortunes  of  France.  'Twas  a  brisk  day  of  March ; 
the  practised  valour  of  Nemours  showed  him  at  once  what 
use  to  make  of  the  army  under  his  orders,  and  having 
enfiladed  his  National  Guard  battalions,  and  placed  his 
artillery  in  echelons^  he  formed  his  cavalry  into  hollow 


HISTORY  OF  THE  KEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  211 


squares  on  the  right  and  left  of  his  line,  flinging  out  a 
cloud  of  howitzers  to  fall  back  upon  the  main  column. 
His  veteran  infantry  he  formed  behind  his  National  Guard 
— politely  hinting  to  Odillon  Barrot,  who  wished  to  retire  ~ 
under  pretence  of  being  exceedingly  unwell,  that  the  regu- 
lar troops  would  bayonet  the  National  Guard  if  they  gave 
way  an  inch — on  which  their  general  turning  very  pale,  de- 
murely went  back  to  his  ]30st.  His  men  were  dreadfully 
discouraged ;  they  had  slept  on  the  ground  all  night ;  they 
regretted  their  homes  and  their  comfortable  night-caps  in 
the  Rue  St.  Honore;  they  had  luckily  fallen  in  with  a 
flock  of  sheep  and  a  drove  of  oxen  at  Tours  the  day  before ; 
but  what  were  these,  compared  to  the  delicacies  of  Chevet^s 
or  three  courses  at  Vefour's?  They  mournfully  cooked 
their  steaks  and  cutlets  on  their  ramrods,  and  passed  a 
most  wretched  night. 

The  army  of  Henry  was  encamped  opposite  to  them,  for 
the  most  part  in  better  order.  The  noble  cavalry  regiments 
found  a  village,  in  which  they  made  themselves  pretty 
comfortable,  Jenkins's  Foot  taking  possession  of  the  kitch- 
ens and  garrets  of  the  buildings.  The  Irish  brigade,  ac- 
customed to  lie  abroad,  were  quartered  in  some  potato 
fields,  where  they  sang  Moore's  melodies  all  night.  There 
were,  besides,  the  troops  regular  and  irregular,  about  three 
thousand  priests  and  abbes  with  the  army;  armed  with 
scourging  whips,  and  chanting  the  most  lugubrious  can- 
ticles; these  reverend  men  were  found  to  be  a  hin- 
drance than  otherwise  to  the  operations  of  the  regular 
forces. 

It  was  a  touching  sight,  in  the  morning  before  the  battle, 
to  see  the  alacrity  with  which  Jenkins's  regiment  sprung 
up  at  the  first  reveille  of  the  bell,  and  engaged  (the  hon- 
est fellows !)  in  offices  almost  menial  for  the  benefit  of  their 
"'French  allies.  The  duke  himself  set  the  example,  and 
blacked  to  a  nicety  the  boots  of  Henri.  At  half-past  ten, 
after  coffee,  the  brilliant  warriors  of  the  cavalry  were 
ready;  their  clarions  rung  to  horse,  their  banners  were 
given  to  the  wind,  their  shirt-collars  were  exquisitely 


212    HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


starched,  and  the  whole  air  was  scented  with  the  odours  of 
their  pomatums  and  pocket-handkerchiefs. 

Jenkins  had  the  honour  of  holding  the  stirrup  for  Henri. 
"  My  faithful  duke !  "  said  the  prince,  pulling  him  by  the 
shoulder-knot,  ^Hhou  art  always  at  thy  Fost.^^  "Here,  as 
in  Wellington  Street,  sire,"  said  the  hero,  blushing — and 
the  prince  made  an  appropriate  speech  to  his  chivalry,  in 
which  allusions  to  the  lilies.  Saint  Louis,  Bayard,  and 
Henri  Quatre,  were,  as  may  be  imagined,  not  spared. 
"Ho!  standard-bearer!  "  the  prince  concluded,  "Fling  out 
my  oriflamme.  Noble  gents  of  France,  your  King  is 
among  you  to-day !  " 

Then,  turning  to  the  Prince  of  Ballybunion,  who  had 
been  drinking  whisky-punch  all  night,  with  the  Princes  of 
Sligo  and  Connemara,  "Prince,"  he  said,  "the  Irish  bri- 
gade has  won  every  battle  in  the  French  history — we  will 
not  deprive  you  of  the  honour  of  winning  this.  You  will 
please  to  commence  the  attack  with  your  brigade."  Bend- 
ing his  head  until  the  green  plumes  of  his  beaver  mingled 
with  the  mane  of  the  Shetland  pony  which  he  rode,  the 
Prince  of  Ireland  trotted  off  with  his  aides-de-camp,  who 
rode  the  same  horse,  a  powerful  grey,  with  which  a  dealer 
at  Nantes  had  supplied  them  on  their  and  the  prince's 
joint  bill  at  three  months. 

The  gallant  sons  of  Erin  had  wisely  slept  until  the  last 
minute  in  their  potato-trenches,  but  rose  at  once  at  the 
summons  of  their  beloved  prince.  Their  toilet  was  the 
work  of  a  moment — a  single  shake  and  it  was  done. 
Rapidly  forming  into  a  line,  they  advanced  headed  by  their 
generals,  who,  turning  their  steeds  into  a  grass-field,  wisely 
determined  to  fight  on  foot.  Behind  them  came  the  line  of 
British  foot  under  the  illustrious  Jenkins,  who  marched  in 
advance  perfectly  collected,  and  smoking  a  Manilla  cigar. 
The  cavalry  were  on  the  right  and  left  of  the  infantry, 
prepared  to  act  in  pontoon^  in  echelon,  or  in  ricochet,  as 
occasion  might  demand.  The  prince  rode  behind,  sup- 
ported by  his  staff,  who  were  almost  all  of  them  bishops, 
archdeacons,  or  ahhes,  and  the  body  of  ecclesiastics  fol- 


HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  213 


lowed,  singing  to  the  sound,  or  rather  howl,  of  serpents 
and  trombones,  the  Latin  canticles  of  the  revered  Francis- 
cus  O'Mahony,  lately  canonised  under  the  name  of  Saint 
Francis  of  Cork. 

The  advanced  lines  of  the  two  contending  armies  were 
now  in  presence — the  national  guard  of  Orleans,  and  the 
Irish  brigade.  The  white  belts  and  fat  paunches  of  the 
guard  presented  a  terrific  appearance,  but  it  might  have 
been  remarked  by  the  close  observer,  that  their  faces  were 
as  white  as  their  belts  and  the  long  line  of  their  bayonets 
might  be  seen  to  quiver.  General  Odillon  Barrot,  with  a 
cockade  as  large  as  a  pancake,  endeavoured  to  make  a 
speech — the  words,  honneiirj  patriej  Fra^igais,  champ-de- 
hataille^  might  be  distinguished,  but  the  general  was  dread- 
fully flustered,,  and  was  evidently  more  at  home  in  the 
Chamber  of  Deputies  than  in  the  field  of  war. 

The  Prince  of  Ballybunion,  for  a  wonder,  did  not  make 
a  speech.  "Boys,"  said  he,  "we've  enough  talking  at 
the  Corn  Exchange;  bating's  the  word  now."  The  Green- 
Islanders  replied  with  a  tremendous  hurroo  which  sent  ter- 
ror into  the  fat  bosoms  of  the  French. 

"Gentlemen  of  the  National  Guard,"  said  the  prince, 
taking  off  his  hat,  and  bowing  to  Odillon  Barrot,  "will  ye 
be  so  igsthramely  obleeging  as  to  fire  first."  This  he  said 
because  it  had  been  said  at  Fontenoy,  but  chiefly  because 
his  own  men  were  only  armed  with  shillelaghs,  and  there- 
fore could  not  fire. 

But  this  proposal  was  very  unpalatable  to  the  National 
Guardsmen ;  for  though  they  understood  the  musket-exer- 
cise pretty  well,  firing  was  the  thing  of  all  others  they  de- 
tested, the  noise  and  the  kick  of  the  gun  and  the  smell  of 
the  powder  being  very  unpleasant  to  them.  "We  won't 
fire,"  said  Odillon  Barrot,  turning  round  to  Colonel  Sau- 
grenue  and  his  regiment  of  the  line — which,  it  may  be  re- 
membered, was  formed  behind  the  National  Guard. 

"Then  give  them  bayonet,"  said  the  colonel  with  a  ter- 
rific oath.    "  Charge,  corhleu  !  " 

At  this  moment,  and  with  the  most  dreadful  howl  that 


214    HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


ever  was  heard,  the  National  Guard  was  seen  to  rush  for- 
wards wildly,  and  with  immense  velocity  towards  the  foe. 
The  fact  is,  that  the  line-regiment  behind  them,  each 
selecting  his  man,  gave  a  poke  with  his  bayonet  between 
the  coat  tails  of  the  Nationals,  and  those  troops  bounded 
forwards  with  an  irresistible  swiftness. 

Nothing  could  withstand  the  tremendous  impetus  of  that 
manoeuvre.  The  Irish  brigade  was  scattered  before  it,  as 
chaff  before  the  wind.  The  Prince  of  Ballybunion  had 
barely  time  to  run  Odillon  Barrot  through  the  body,  when 
he  too  was  borne  away  in  the  swift  rout.  They  scattered 
tumultuously,  and  fled  for  twenty  miles  without  stopping. 
The  Princes  of  Donegal  and  Connemara  were  taken  pris- 
oners, but  though  they  offered  to  give  bills  at  three 
months,  and  for  a  hundred  thousand  pounds,  for  their 
ransom,  the  offer  was  refused,  and  they  were  sent  to  the 
rear  when  the  Duke  of  Nemours,  hearing  they  were  Irish 
generals,  and  that  they  had  been  robbed  of  their  ready 
money  by  his  troops,  who  had  taken  them  prisoners,  caused 
a  comfortable  breakfast  to  be  supplied  to  them,  and  lent 
them  each  a  sum  of  money.  How  generous  are  men  in 
success !  the  Prince  of  Orleans  was  charmed  with  the  con- 
duct of  his  National  Guards,  and  thought  his  victory 
secure.  He  despatched  a  courier  to  Paris  with  the  brief 
words,  "  We  met  the  enemy  before  Tours.  The  National 
Guard  has  done  its  duty.  The  troops  of  the  Pretender 
are  routed.  Vive  le  Roi  !  The  note,  you  may  be  sure, 
appeared  in  the  Journal  des  Dehats,  and  the  Editor  who 
only  that  morning  had  called  Henri  V.  "a  great  Prince,  an 
august  exile,"  denominated  him  instantly  a  murderer,  slave, 
thief,  cut-throat,  pickpocket,  and  burglar. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  215 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  ENGLISH  UNDER  JENKINS. 

But  the  prince  had  not  calculated  that  there  was  a  line 
of  British  Infantry  behind  the  routed  Irish  brigade.  Borne 
on  with  the  hurry  of  the  melee,  flushed  with  triumph, 
puffing  and  blowing  with  running,  and  forgetting,  in  the 
intoxication  of  victory,  the  trifling  bayonet-pricks  which 
had  impelled  them  to  the  charge,  the  conquering  National 
Guardsmen  found  themselves  suddenly  in  presence  of  Jen- 
kins's Foot. 

They  halted  all  in  a  huddle,  like  a  flock  of  sheep. 

"  Up,  Foot,  and  at  them  !  were  the  memorable  words 
of  the  Duke  Jenkins,  as,  waving  his  baton,  he  pointed 
towards  the  enemy,  and  with  a  tremendous  shout  the  stal- 
wart sons  of  England  rushed  on !  Down  went  plume  and 
cocked  hat,  down  went  corporal  and  captain,  down  went 
grocer  and  tailor,  under  the  long  staves  of  the  indomitable 
English  Footmen.  "A  Jenkins!  a  Jenkins roared  the 
Duke,  planting  a  blow  which  broke  the  aquiline  nose  of 
Major  Arago,  the  celebrated  astronomer.  St.  George  for 
Mayf air ! shouted  his  followers,  strewing  the  plain  with 
carcases.  Not  a  man  of  the  Guard  escaped;  they  fell  like 
grass  before  the  mower. 

**They  are  gallant  troops,  those  yellow-plushed  Anglais," 
said  the  Duke  of  Nemours,  surveying  them  with  his  opera- 
glass;  "  'tis  a  pity  they  will  all  be  cut  up  in  half  an  hour. 
Concombre !  take  your  dragoons,  and  do  it !  "  "  Remem- 
ber Waterloo,  boys!"  said  Colonel  Concombre,  twirling 
his  moustache,  and  a  thousand  sabres  flashed  in  the  sun, 
and  the  gallant  hussars  prepared  to  attack  the  English- 
men. 

Jenkins,  his  gigantic  form  leaning  on  his  staff,  and  sur- 
veying the  havoc  of  the  field,  was  instantly  aware  of  the 
10 — Vol.  19 


216    HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


enemy's  manoeuvre.  His  people  were  employed  rifling  the 
pockets  of  the  National  Guard,  and  had  made  a  tolerable 
booty  when  the  great  duke,  taking  a  bell  out  of  his  pocket 
(it  was  used  for  signals  in  his  battalion  in  place  of  fife 
or  bugle)  speedily  called  his  scattered  warriors  together. 
^^Take  the  muskets  to  the  Nationals,''  said  he.  They  did 
so.  "Form  in  square,  and  prepare  to  receive  cavalry!'' 
By  the  time  Concombre's  regiment  arrived,  he  found  a 
square  of  bristling  bayonets  with  Britons  behind  them ! 

The  colonel  did  not  care  to  attempt  to  break  that  tre- 
mendous body.    "  Halt !  "  said  he  to  his  men. 

"Fire!"  screamed  Jenkins,  with  eagle  swiftness;  but 
the  guns  of  the  National  Guard  not  being  loaded  did  not 
in  consequence  go  off.  The  hussars  gave  a  jeer  of  derision, 
but  nevertheless  did  not  return  to  the  attack,  and  seeing 
some  of  the  Legitimist  cavalry  at  hand,  prepared  to  charge 
upon  them. 

The  fate  of  those  carpet  warriors  was  soon  decided. 
The  Millefleur  regiment  broke  before  Concombre's  hussars 
instantaneously;  the  Eau  de  Rose  dragoons  stuck  spurs 
into  their  blood  horses,  and  galloped  far  out  of  reach  of 
the  opposing  cavalry ;  the  Eau  de  Cologne  lancers  fainted 
to  a  man,  and  the  regiment  of  Concombre,  pursuing  its 
course,  had  actually  reached  the  prince  and  his  aides-de- 
camp^  when  the  clergymen  coming  up  formed  gallantly 
round  the  oriflamme,  and  the  bassoons  and  serpents  bray- 
ing again,  set  up  such  a  shout  of  canticles,  and  anathemas, 
and  excommunications,  that  the  horses  of  Concombre's 
dragoons  in  turn  took  fright,  and  those  warriors  in  their 
turn  broke  and  fled.  As  soon  as  they  turned,  the  Vendean 
riflemen  fired  amongst  them,  and  finished  them — the  gal- 
lant Concombre  fell ;  the  intrepid  though  diminutive  Cor- 
nichon,  his  major,  was  cut  down;  Cardon  was  wounded  a 
la  moelle,  and  the  wife  of  the  fiery  Navet  was  that  day  a 
widow.  Peace  to  the  souls  of  the  brave !  In  defeat  or  in 
victory,  where  can  the  soldier  find  a  more  fitting  resting- 
place  than  the  glorious  field  of  carnage?  Only  a  few 
disorderly   and   dispirited  riders   of  Concombre's  regi- 


HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FREKCH  REVOLUTION.  217 


ment  reached  Tours  at  night.  They  had  left  it,  but 
the  day  before,  a  thousand  disciplined  and  high-spirited 
men! 

Knowing  how  irresistible  a  weapon  is  the  bayonet  in 
British  hands,  the  intrepid  Jenkins  determined  to  carry  on 
his  advantage  and  charged  the  Saugrenue  Light  Infantry 
(now  before  him)  with  cold  steel.  The  Frenchmen  deliv- 
ered a  volley,  of  which  a  shot  took  effect  in  Jenkins's 
cockade,  but  did  not  abide  the  crossing  of  the  weapons. 

Frenchman  dies,  but  never  surrenders,''  said  Sau- 
grenue, yielding  up  his  sword,  and  his  whole  regiment 
were  stabbed,  trampled  down,  or  made  prisoner.  The 
blood  of  the  Englishmen  rose  in  the  hot  encounter.  Their 
curses  were  horrible;  their  courage  tremendous.  ^^On, 
on !  "  hoarsely  screamed  they,  and  a  second  regiment  met 
them  and  was  crushed,  pounded,  in  the  hurtling  grinding 
encounter.  '^A  Jenkins,  a  Jenkins!"  still  roared  the 
heroic  duke ;  "  St.  George  for  Mayf air !  "  The  Footmen  of 
England  still  yelled  their  terrific  battle-cry,  Hurra, 
hurra !  "  On  they  went,  regiment  after  regiment  was  anni- 
hilated, until  scared  at  the  very  trample  of  the  advancing 
warriors,  the  dismayed  troops  of  France  screaming,  fled. 
Gathering  his  last  warriors  round  about  him,  Nemours  de- 
termined to  make  a  last  desperate  effort.  'Twas  vain ;  the 
ranks  met ;  the  next  moment  the  truncheon  of  the  Prince 
of  Orleans  was  dashed  from  his  hand  by  the  irresistible 
mace  of  the  Duke  Jenkins;  his  horse's  shins  were  broken 
by  the  same  weapon.  Screaming  with  agony,  the  animal 
fell.  Jenkins's  hand  was  at  the  duke's  collar  in  a  mo- 
ment, and  had  he  not  gasped  out  "Je  me  rends,^^  he  would 
have  been  throttled  in  that  dreadful  grasp ! 

Three  hundred  and  forty-two  standards,  seventy-nine 
regiments,  their  baggage,  ammunition,  and  treasure-chests, 
fell  into  the  hands  of  the  victorious  duke.  He  had  avenged 
the  honour  of  Old  England,  and  himself  presenting  the 
sword  of  the  conquered  Nemours  to  Prince  Henri,  who 
now  came  up,  the  prince,  bursting  into  tears,  fell  on  his 
neck,  and  said,  "  Duke,  I  owe  my  crown  to  my  patron  saint 


218    HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


and  you.'^  It  was  indeed  a  glorious  victory,  but  what  will 
not  British  valour  attain? 

The  Duke  of  Nemours,  having  despatched  a  brief  note 
to  Paris,  saying,  "Sire,  all  is  lost  except  honour!^'  was 
sent  off  in  confinement,  and,  in  spite  of  the  entreaties  of 
his  captor,  was  hardly  treated  with  decent  politeness. 
The  priests  and  the  noble  regiments  who  rode  back  when 
the  affair  was  over  were  for  having  the  Prince  shot  at  once, 
and  murmured  loudly  against  "  cet  Anglais  brutal, who 
interposed  in  behalf  of  his  prisoner.  Henri  V.  granted 
the  Prince  his  life,  but,  no  doubt  misguided  by  the  advice 
of  his  noble  and  ecclesiastical  councillors,  treated  the  illus- 
trious English  Duke  with  marked  coldness,  and  did  not 
even  ask  him  to  supper  that  night. 

"  Well!  said  Jenkins,  "I  and  my  merry  men  can  sup 
alone :  and,  indeed  having  had  the  pick  of  the  plunder  of 
about  28,000  men,  they  had  wherewithal  to  make  them- 
selves pretty  comfortable.  The  prisoners  (25,403)  were 
all  without  difficulty  induced  to  assume  the  white  cockade. 
Most  of  them  had  those  marks  of  loyalty  ready  sewn  in 
their  flannel  waistcoats,  where  they  swore  they  had  worn 
them  ever  since  1830.  This  we  may  believe,  an'  we  will; 
but  the  Prince  Henri  was  too  politic  or  too  good-humoured 
in  the  moment  of  victory  to  doubt  the  sincerity  of  his  new 
subjects'  protestations,  and  received  the  Colonels  and  Gen- 
erals affably  at  his  table. 

The  next  morning  a  proclamation  was  issued  to  the 
united  armies : 

"Faithful  soldiers  of  France  and  Navarre,"  said  the 
Prince,  "  the  Saints  have  won  for  us  a  great  victory — the 
enemies  of  our  religion  have  been  overcome — the  lilies  are 
restored  to  their  native  soil.  Yesterday  morning  at  eleven 
o'clock  the  army  under  my  command  engaged  that  which 
was  led  by  his  Serene  Highness  the  Duke  de  Nemours. 
Our  forces  were  but  a  third  in  number  when  compared 
with  those  of  the  enemy.  My  faithful  chivalry  and  nobles 
made  the  strength,  however,  equal. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  219 


"The  regiments  of  Fleur  d'Orange,  Millefleur,  and  Eau 
de  Cologne,  covered  themselves  with  glory — they  sabred 
many  thousands  of  the  enemy's  troops.  Their  valour  was 
ably  seconded  by  the  gallantry  of  my  ecclesiastical  friends ; 
at  a  moment  of  danger  they  rallied  round  my  banner,  and, 
forsaking  the  crosier  for  the  sword,  showed  that  they  were 
of  the  church  militant  indeed. 

"  My  faithful  Irish  auxiliaries  conducted  themselves  with 
becoming  heroism — but  why  particularize  when  all  did 
their  duty?  How  remember  individual  acts  when  all  were 
heroes? 

The  Marshal  of  France,  Sucre  d'Orgeville,  Commander 
of  the  army  of  H.M.  Christian  Majesty,  recommended 
about  three  thousand  persons  for  promotion,  and  the  in- 
dignation of  Jenkins  and  his  brave  companions  may  be 
imagined  when  it  is  stated  that  they  were  not  even  men- 
tioned in  the  despatch ! 

As  for  the  Princes  of  Ballybunion,  Donegal,  and  Conne- 
mara,  they  wrote  off  despatches  to  their  government,  say- 
ing, "  The  Duke  of  Nemours  is  beaten,  and  a  prisoner ! " 
"  The  Irish  brigade  has  done  it  all !  on  which  His  Majesty 
the  King  of  the  Irish,  convoking  his  Parliament  at  the 
Corn  Exchange  Palace,  Dublin,  made  a  speech,  in  which 
he  called  Louis  Philippe  an  "old  miscreant,"  and  paid  the 
highest  compliments  to  his  son  and  his  troops.  The  King 
on  this  occasion  knighted  Sir  Henry  Sheehan,  Sir  Gavan 
Duffy  (whose  journals  had  published  the  news),  and  was 
so  delighted  with  the  valour  of  his  son,  that  he  despatched 
him  his  Order  of  the  Pig  and  Whistle  (1st  class)  and  a 
munificent  present  of  five  hundred  thousand  pounds — in  a 
bill  at  three  months.  All  Dublin  was  illuminated;  and  at 
a  ball  at  the  Castle,  the  Lord  Chancellor  Smith  (Earl  of 
Smithereens),  getting  extremely  intoxicated,  called  out  the 
Lord  Bishop  of  Galway  (the  Dove)  and  they  fought  in  the 
Phoenix  Park.  Having  shot  the  Right  Reverend  Bishop 
through  the  body.  Smithereens  apologized.  He  was  the 
same  practitioner  who  had  rendered  himself  so  celebrated 


220    HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


in  the  memorable  trial  of  the  King — before  the  Act  of  In- 
dependence. 

Meanwhile,  the  army  of  Prince  Henri  advanced  with 
rapid  strides  towards  Paris,  whither  the  History  likewise 
must  hasten ;  for  extraordinary  were  the  events  preparing 
in  that  capital. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  221 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  LEAGUER  OF  PARIS. 

By  a  singular  coincidence,  on  the  very  same  day,  when 
the  armies  of  Henri  V.  appeared  before  Paris  from  the 
Western  Eoad,  those  of  the  Emperor  John  Thomas  Napo- 
leon arrived  from  the  North.  Skirmishes  took  place  be- 
tween the  advanced  guards  of  the  two  parties,  and  much 
slaughter  ensued. 

"  Bon  !  thought  King  Louis  Philippe,  who  examined 
them  from  his  tower ;  they  will  kill  each  other ;  this  is 
by  far  the  most  economical  way  of  getting  rid  of  them." 
The  astute  monarch's  calculations  were  admirably  exposed 
by  a  clever  remark  of  the  Prince  of  Ballybunion.  ^^Faix^ 
Harry,"  says  he  (with  a  familiarity  which  the  punctilious 
son  of  Saint  Louis  resented),  "you  and  him  yandther,  the 
Emperor  I  mane,  are  like  the  Kilkenny  cats,  dear." 

"  Et  que  font'ils  ces  chats  de  Kilkigny,  Monsieur  le  Prince 
de  Ballybunion  ?  "  asked  the  most  Christian  King  haughtily. 

Prince  Daniel  replied  by  narrating  the  well-known 
apologue  of  the  animals,  "  ating  each  other  all  up  but  their 
teels,  and  that's  what  you  and  Imparial  Pop  yondther  will 
do,  blazing  away  as  ye  are,"  added  the  jocose  and  royal 
boy. 

"Je  voire  Altesse  Roy  ale  de  vaguer  a  ses  2^'^opres 
affaires/^  answered  Prince  Henri  sternly,  for  he  was  an 
enemy  to  anything  like  a  joke;  but  there  is  always  wis- 
dom in  real  wit,  and  it  would  have  been  well  for  His  Most 
Christian  Majesty  had  he  followed  the  facetious  counsels  of 
his  Irish  ally. 

The  fact  is,  the  King,  Henri,  had  an  understanding  with 
the  garrisons  of  some  of  the  forts,  and  expected  all  would 
declare  for  him.  However,  of  the  twenty-four  forts  which 
we  have  described,  eight  only,  and  by  the  means  of  Mar- 


222    HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FREKCH  REVOLUTIOK 


shal  Soult,  who  had  grown  extremely  devout  of  late  years, 
declared  for  Henri,  and  raised  the  white  flag ;  while  eight 
others,  seeing  Prince  J ohn  Thomas  Napoleon  before  them 
in  the  costume  of  his  revered  predecessor,  at  once  flung 
open  their  gates  to  him,  and  mounted  the  tricolour  with 
the  eagle ;  the  remaining  eight,  into  which  the  Princes  of 
the  blood  of  Orleans  had  thrown  themselves,  remained 
constant  to  Louis  Philippe,  Nothing  could  induce  that 
Prince  to  quit  the  Tuileries.  His  money  was  there,  and 
he  swore  he  would  remain  by  it.  In  vain  his  sons  offered 
to  bring  him  into  one  of  the  forts,  he  would  not  stir  with- 
out his  treasure ;  they  said  they  would  transport  it  thither ; 
but  no,  no ;  the  patriarchal  monarch,  putting  his  finger  to 
his  aged  nose,  and  winking  archly,  said,  ^^he  knew  a  trick 
worth  two  of  that,"  and  resolved  to  abide  by  his  bags. 

The  theatres  and  cafes  remained  open  as  usual ;  the  funds 
rose  three  centimes.  The  Journal  des  Dehats  published 
three  editions  of  different  tones  of  politics ;  one,  the  Joitr- 
nal  de  V  Empire y  for  the  Napoleonites ;  the  Journal  de  la 
Legitimite,  another  very  complimentary  to  the  legitimate 
monarch,  and  finally,  the  original  edition  bound  heart  and 
soul  to  the  dynasty  of  July.  The  poor  editor,  who  had 
to  write  all  three,  complained  not  a  little  ,that  his  salary 
was  not  raised;  but  the  truth  is,  that,  by  altering  the 
names,  one  article  did  indifferently  for  either  paper.  The 
Duke  of  Brittany,  under  the  title  of  Louis  XVII.,  was  al- 
ways issuing  manifestoes  from  Charenton,  but  of  these  the 
Parisians  took  little  heed — the  Charivari  proclaimed  itself 
his  gazette,  and  was  allowed  to  be  very  witty  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  three  Pretenders. 

As  the  country  had  been  ravaged  for  a  hundred  miles 
round,  the  respective  Princes  of  course  were  for  throwing 
.  themselves  into  the  forts,  where  there  was  plenty  of  pro- 
vision, and  when  once  there,  they  speedily  began  to  turn 
out  such  of  the  garrison  as  were  disagreeable  to  them,  or 
had  an  inconvenient  appetite,  or  were  of  a  doubtful  fidelity. 
These  poor  fellows,  turned  into  the  road,  had  no  choice 
but  starvation  5  as  to  getting  into  Paris,  that  was  impossi- 


HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  223 


ble.  A  mouse  could  not  have  got  into  the  place,  so  ad- 
mirably were  the  forts  guarded,  without  having  his  head 
taken  off  by  a  cannon  ball.  Thus  the  three  conflicting 
parties  stood  close  to  each  other,  hating  each  other,  "  will- 
ing to  wound  and  yet  afraid  to  strike,^' — the  victuals  in 
the  forts,  from  the  prodigious  increase  of  the  garrisons, 
getting  smaller  every  day.  As  for  Louis  Philippe  in  his 
palace,  in  the  centre  of  the  twenty-four  forts,  knowing  that 
a  spark  from  one  might  set  them  all  blazing  away,  and  that 
he  and  his  money-bags  might  be  blown  into  eternity  in  ten 
minutes,  you  may  fancy  his  situation  was  not  very  com- 
fortable. 

But  his  safety  lay  in  his  treasure.  Neither  the  Imperi- 
alists nor  the  Bourbonites  were  willing  to  relinquish  the 
two  hundred  and  fifty  billions  in  gold;  nor  would  the 
Princes  of  Orleans  dare  to  fire  upon  that  considerable  sum 
of  money,  and  its  possessor,  their  revered  father.  How 
was  this  state  of  things  to  end?  The  Emperor  sent  a  note 
to  His  Most  Christian  Majesty  (for  they  always  styled  each 
other  in  this  manner  in  their  communications),  proposing 
that  they  should  turn  out  and  decide  the  quarrel  sword  in 
hand,  to  which  proposition  Henri  would  have  acceded,  but 
that  the  priests,  his  ghostly  counsellors,  threatened  to  ex- 
communicate him  should  he  do  so.  Hence  this  simple  way 
of  settling  the  dispute  was  impossible. 

The  presence  of  the  holy  fathers  caused  considerable 
annoyance  in  the  forts.  Especially  the  poor  English,  as 
Protestants,  were  subject  to  much  petty  persecutions,  to 
the  no  small  anger  of  Jenkins,  their  commander.  And  it 
must  be  confessed  that  these  intrepid  footmen  were  not  so 
amenable  to  discipline  as  they  might  have  been.  Remem- 
bering the  usages  of  merry  England,  they  clubbed  together, 
and  swore  they  would  have  four  meals  of  meat  a  day,  wax 
candles  in  the  casemates,  and  their  porter.  These  demands 
were  laughed  at.  The  priests  even  called  upon  them  to 
fast  on  Fridays,  on  which  a  general  mutiny  broke  out  in 
the  regiment ;  and  they  would  have  had  a  fourth  standard 
raised  before  Paris — viz.  that  of  England — but  the  garrison 


224    HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


proving  too  strong  for  them,  they  were  compelled  to  lay- 
down  their  sticks ;  and,  in  consideration  of  past  services^ 
were  permitted  to  leave  the  forts.  'Twas  well  for  them! 
as  you  shall  hear. 

The  Prince  of  Ballybunion  and  the  Irish  force  were 
quartered  in  the  fort  which,  in  compliment  to  them,  was 
called  Fort  Potato,  and  where  they  made  themselves  as 
comfortable  as  circumstances  would  admit.  The  Princes 
had  as  much  brandy  as  they  liked,  and  passed  their  time 
on  the  ramparts  playing  at  dice  or  pitch  and  toss  (with  the 
halfpenny  that  one  of  them  somehow  had)  for  vast  sums  of 
money,  for  which  they  gave  their  notes  of  hand.  The 
warriors  of  their  legion  would  stand  round  delighted ;  and 
it  was  "Musha,  Masther  Dan,  but  that's  a  good  throw 

Good  luck  to  you,  Misther  Pat,  and  throw  thirteen  this 
time ! and  so  forth.  But  this  sort  of  inaction  could  not 
last  long.  They  had  heard  of  the  treasures  amassed  in  the 
Palace  of  the  Tuileries ;  they  sighed  when  they  thought  of 
the  lack  of  bullion  in  their  green  and  beautiful  country. 
They  panted  for  war !    Thdy  formed  their  plan. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  JSEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  225 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  FORTS. 

On  the  morning  of  the  26th  October,  1884,  as  his  Maj- 
esty Louis  Philippe  was  at  breakfast,  reading  the  Debats 
newspaper,  and  wishing  that  what  the  journal  said  about, 
Cholera  Morbus  in  the  Camp  of  the  Pretender  Henri  — 
^^Chicken-pox  raging  in  the  forts  of  the  Traitor  Bona- 
parte,''— might  be  true,  what  was  his  surprise  to  hear  the 
report  of  a  gun ;  and  at  the  same  instant — whizz !  came  an 
eighty-four  pound  ball  through  the  window,  and  took  off 
the  head  of  the  faithful  Monsieur  de  Montalivet,  who  was 
coming  in  with  a  plate  of  muffins. 

"Three  francs  for  the  window,''  said  the  monarch;  "and 
the  muffins  of  course  spoiled ;"  and  he  sate  down  to  break- 
fast very  peevishly.  Ah,  King  Louis  Philippe,  that  shot 
cost  thee  more  than  a  window-pane — more  than  a  plate  of 
muffins — it  cost  thee  a  fair  kingdom  and  fifty  millions  of 
tax-payers. 

The  shot  had  been  fired  from  Fort  Potato.  "  Gracious 
Heavens ! "  said  the  commander  of  the  place  to  the  Irish 
prince,  in  a  fury.  "What  has  your  Highness  done?" 
"Faix,"  replied  the  other,  "Donegal  and  I  saw  a  spar- 
row on  the  Tuileries,  and  we  thought  we'd  have  a  shot  at 
it,  that's  all."  "Horroo!  look  out  for  squalls,"  here  cried 
the  intrepid  Hibernian,  for  at  this  moment  one  of  Paix- 
hans'  shells  fell  into  the  counterscarp  of  the  demilune  on 
which  they  were  standing,  and  sent  a  ravelin  and  a  couple 
of  embrasures  flying  about  their  ears. 

Fort  Twenty-three,  which  held  out  for  Louis  Philippe, 
seeing  Fort  Twenty-four,  or  Potato,  open  a  fire  on  the 
Tuileries,  instantly  replied  by  its  guns,  with  which  it 
blazed  away  at  the  Bourbonite  Fort.  On  seeing  this.  Fort 
Twenty-two,  occupied  by  the  Imperialists,  began  pummel- 


226    HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


ling  Twenty -three;  Twenty-one  began  at  Twenty-two ;  and 
in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  whole  of  this  vast  line  of  forti- 
fication was  in  a  blaze  of  flame,  flashing,  roaring,  cannon- 
ading, rocketing,  bombing,  in  the  most  tremendous  man- 
ner. The  world  has  never,  perhaps,  before  or  since,  heard 
such  an  uproar.  Fancy  twenty-four  thousand  guns  thun- 
dering at  each  other.  Fancy  the  sky  red  with  the  fires  of 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  blazing,  brazen  meteors ;  the  air 
thick  with  impenetrable  smoke — the  universe  almost  in  a 
flame !  for  the  noise  of  the  cannonading  was  heard  on  the 
peaks  of  the  Andes,  and  broke  three  windows  in  the  English 
factory  at  Canton.  Boom,  boom,  boom!  for  three  days  in- 
cessantly the  gigantic,  I  may  say  Cyclopean,  battle  went  on ; 
boom,  boom,  bong !  The  air  was  thick  with  cannon  balls ; 
they  hurled,  they  jostled  each  other  in  the  heavens,  and  fell 
whizzing,  whirling,  crashing,  back  into  the  very  forts  from 
which  they  came.    Boom,  boom,  boom,  bong,  brrwrrwrrr! 

On  the  second  day  a  band  might  have  been  seen  (had  the 
smoke  permitted  it)  assembling  at  the  sally-port  of  Fort 
Potato,  and  have  been  heard  (if  the  tremendous  clang  of 
the  cannonading  had  allowed  it)  giving  mysterious  signs 
and  countersigns.  "Tom'^  was  the  word  whispered, 
Steele"  was  the  sibilated  response — (it  is  astonishing 
how,  in  the  roar  of  elements,  the  human  whisper  hisses 
above  all!) — it  was  the  Irish  brigades  assembling.  "Now 
or  never,  boys,'^  said  their  leaders,  and  sticking  their 
doodeens  into  their  mouths,  they  dropped  stealthily  into 
the  trenches,  heedless  of  the  broken  glass  and  sword- 
blades;  rose  from  those  trenches;  formed  in  silent  order; 
and  marched  to  Paris.  They  knew  they€Ould  arrive  there 
unobserved — nobody,  indeed,  remarked  their  absence. 

The  frivolous  Parisians  were,  in  the  meanwhile,  amusing 
themselves  at  their  theatres  and  cafes  as  usual ;  and  a  new 
piece,  in  which  Arnal  performed,  was  the  universal  talk  of 
the  foyers;  while  a  new  feuilletoriy  by  Monsieur  Eugene 
Sue,  kept  the  attention  of  the  reader  so  fascinated  to  the 
journal,  that  they  did  not  care  in  the  least  for  the  vacarme 
without  the  walls. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  227 


CHAPTER  IX. 

LOUIS  XVII. 

The  tremendous  cannonading,  however,  had  a  singular 
effect  upon  the  inhabitants  of  the  great  public  hospital  of 
Charenton,  in  which  it  may  be  remembered  Louis  XVII. 
had  been,  as  in  mockery,  confined.  His  majesty  of  de- 
meanor, his  calm  deportment,  the  reasonableness  of  his 
pretensions,  had  not  failed  to  strike  with  awe  and  respect 
his  four  thousand  comrades  of  captivity.  The  Emperor  of 
China,  the  Princess  of  the  Moon;  Julius  Csesar;  Saint 
Genevieve,  the  patron  saint  of  Paris,  the  Pope  of  Rome; 
the  Cacique  of  Mexico ;  and  several  singular  and  illustrious 
personages,  who  happened  to  be  confined  there,  all  held  a 
council  with  Louis  XVII.,  and  all  agreed  that  now  or 
never  was  the  time  to  support  his  legitimate  pretensions  to 
the  Crown  of  France.  As  the  cannons  roared  around 
them,  they  howled  with  furious  delight  in  response — they 
took  counsel  together — Doctor  Pinel  and  the  infamous 
jailers  who,  under  the  name  of  keepers,  held  them  in  hor- 
rible captivity,  were  pounced  upon  and  overcome  in  a 
twinkling.  The  strait-waistcoats  were  taken  off  from  the 
wretched  captives  languishing  in  the  dungeons ;  the  guar- 
dians were  invested  in  these  shameful  garments,  aud  with 
triumphant  laughter  plunged  under  the  domiciles.  The 
gates  of  the  prison  were  flung  open,  and  they  marched 
forth  in  the  blackness  of  the  storm ! 

On  the  third  day  the  cannonading  was  observed  to  de- 
crease ;  only  a  gun  went  off  fitfully  now  and  then 

«  c  .  •  •  « 

On  the  fourth  day  the  Parisians  said  to  one  another, 
"  Tiem  !  ils  sont  fatigues^  les  cannoniers  des  forts  f  — and 


228    HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


why?  Because  there  was  do  more  powder? — Ay,  truly, 
there  was  no  more  powder. 

There  was  no  more  powder,  no  more  guns,  no  more  gun- 
ners, no  more  forts,  no  more  nothing.  The  forts  had  blown 
each  other  iqy.  The  battle-roar  ceased.  The  battle-clouds 
rolled  off.  The  silver  moon,  the  twinkling  stars,  looked 
blandly  down  from  the  serene  azure, — and  all  was  peace — ■ 
stillness — the  stillness  of  death.    Holy,  holy  silence ! 

Yes,  the  battle  of  Paris  was  over.  And  where  were  the 
combatants?  All  gone — not  one  left! — And  where  was 
Louis  Philippe?  The  venerable  Prince  was  a  captive  in 
the  Tuileries.  The  Irish  brigade  was  encamped  around  it. 
They  had  reached  the  palace  a  little  too  late ;  it  was  al- 
ready occupied  by  the  partisans  of  his  Majesty  Louis  XVII. 

That  respectable  monarch  and  his  followers  better  knew 
the  way  to  the  Tuileries  than  the  ignorant  sons  of  Erin. 
They  burst  through  the  feeble  barriers  of  the  guards ;  they 
rushed  triumphant  into  the  kingly  halls  of  the  palace; 
they  seated  the  seventeenth  Louis  on  the  throne  of  his  an- 
cestors ;  and  the  Parisians  read  in  the  Journal  des  Dehats 
of  the  fifth  of  ISTovember,  an  important  article,  which  pro- 
claimed that  the  civil  war  was  concluded : 

"  The  troubles  which  distracted  the  greatest  empire  in 
the  world  are  at  an  end.  Europe,  which  marked  with  sor- 
row the  disturbances  which  agitated  the  bosom  of  the 
Queen  of  Nations,  the  great  leader  of  Civilisation,  may  now 
rest  'in  peace.  That  monarch  whom  we  have  long  been 
sighing  for;  whose  image  has  lain  hidden,  and  yet,  oh! 
how  passionately  worshipped  in  every  French  heart,  is  with 
us  once  more.  Blessings  be  on  him ;  blessings — a  thousand 
blessings  upon  the  happy  country  which  is  at  length  re- 
stored to  his  beneficent,  his  legitimate,  his  reasonable 
sway! 

"His  Most  Christian  Majesty,  Louis  XVII.,  yesterday 
arrived  at  his  palace  of  the  Tuileries,  accompanied  by  his 
august  allies.  His  Royal  Highness  the  Duke  of  Orleans 
has  resigned  his  post  as  Lieutenant-General  of  the  king- 


HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  229 


dom,  and  will  return  speedily  to  take  up  his  abode  at  the 
Palais  Royal.  It  is  a  great  mercy  that  the  children  of  his 
Royal  Highness,  who  happened  to  be  in  the  late  forts 
round  Paris  (before  the  bombardment  which  has  so  happily 
ended  in  their  destruction),  had  returned  to  their  father 
before  the  commencement  of  the  cannonading.  They  will 
continue,  as  heretofore,  to  be  the  most  loyal  supporters  of 
order  and  the  throne. 

"  None  can  read  without  tears  in  their  eyes  our  august 
monarch's  proclamation. 

"  *  Louis,  by  etc. — 

" '  My  children.  After  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine 
years  of  captivity,  I  am  restored  to  you.  The  cycle  of 
events  predicted  by  the  ancient  magi,  and  the  planetary 
convolutions  mentioned  in  the  lost  Sibylline  books,  have 
fulfilled  their  respective  idiosyncrasies,  and  ended  (as  al- 
ways in  the  depths  of  my  dungeons  I  confidently  expected) 
in  the  triumph  of  the  good  angel,  and  the  utter  discomfit- 
ure of  the  abominable  Blue  Dragon. 

^  When  the  bombarding  began,  and  the  powers  of  dark- 
ness commenced  their  hellish  gunpowder-evolutions,  I  was 
close  by — in  my  palace  of  Charenton,  three  hundred  and 
thirty-three  thousand  miles  off,  in  the  ring  of  Saturn — I 
witnessed  your  misery.  My  heart  was  affected  by  it,  and 
I  said,  "  Is  the  multiplication  table  a  fiction?  are  the  signs 
of  the  Zodiac  mere  astronomers'  prattle?  " 

"  ^  I  clapped  chains,  shrieking  and  darkness,  on  my  phy- 
sician. Dr.  Pinel.  The  keepers  I  shall  cause  to  be  roasted 
alive.  I  summoned  my  allies  round  about  me.  The  high 
contracting  powers  came  to  my  bidding.  Monarchs,  from 
all  parts  of  the  earth ;  sovereigns,  from  the  moon  and  other 
illumined  orbits;  the  white  necromancers,  and  the  pale 
imprisoned  genii ;  I  whispered  the  mystic  sign,  and  the 
doors  flew  open.  We  entered  Paris  in  triumph,  by  the 
Charenton  bridge.  Our  luggage  was  not  examined  at  the 
Octroi.  The  bottle-green  ones  were  scared  at  our  shouts, 
and  retreated  howling ;  they  knew  us,  and  trembled. 


230    HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  ' 

" '  My  faithful  peers  an  ^deputies  will  rally  around  me. 
I  have  a  friend  in  Turkey — the  grand  vizier  of  the  Mussul- 
mans— he  was  a  Protestant  once,  Lore  Brougham,  by  name. 
I  have  sent  to  him  to  legislate  for  us :  he  is  wise  in  the 
law,  and  astrology,  and  all  sciences ;  he  shall  aid  my  min- 
isters in  their  councils.  I  have  written  to  him  by  the  post.  ~ 
There  shall  be  no  more  infamous  madhouses  in  France, 
where  poor  souls  shiver  in  strait-waistcoats. 

"^I  recognised  Louis  Philippe,  my  good  cousin.    He  was 
in  his  counting-house,  counting  out  his  money,  as  the  old 
prophecy  warned  me.    He  gave  me  up  the  keys  of  his 
gold ;  I  shall  know  well  how  to  use  it.    Taught  by  adver- 
sity, I  am  not  a  spendthrift,  neither  am  I  a  miser.    I  will 
endow  the  land  with  noble  institutions,  instead  of  diabol-  ' 
ical  forts.    I  will  have  no  more  cannon  founded.  They 
are  a  curse,  and  shall  be  melted — the  iron  ones  into  rail-  - 
roads;  the  bronze  ones  into  statues  of  beautiful  saints, 
angels,  and  wise  men ;  the  copper  ones  into  money,  to  be  ~ 
distributed  among  my  poor.    I  was  poor  once,  and  I  love 
them. 

"  ^  There  shall  be  no  more  poverty ;  no  more  wars ;  no 
more  avarice ;  no  more  passports ;  no  more  custom-houses ; 
no  more  lying ;  no  more  physic. 

'  My  Chambers  will  put  the  seal  to  these  reforms.  I  . 
will  it.    I  am  the  King. 

(Signed)  "Louis.'' 


"  Some  alarm  was  created  yesterday  by  the  arrival  of  a 
body  of  the  English  foot-guard  under  the  Duke  of  Jenkins ;  ~ 
they  were  at  first  about  to  sack  the  city,  but  on  hearing 
that  the  banner  of  the  lilies  was  once  more  raised  in 
France,  the  Duke  hastened  to  the  Tuileries,  and  offered  his  ^ 
allegiance  to  his  Majesty.   It  was  accepted ;  and  the  Plush- 
Guard  has  been  established  in  place  of  the  Swiss,  who  - 
waited  on  former  sovereigns." 


"The  Irish  brigade  quartered  in  the  Tuileries  are  to 
enter  our  service.    Their  commander  states  that  they  took 


HISTORY  OF  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  231 


every  one  of  the  forts  round  Paris,  and  having  blown  them 
up,  were  proceeding  to  release  Louis  XVII.  when  they 
found  that  august  monarch,  happily,  free.  News  of  their 
glorious  victory  has  been  conveyed  to  Dublin,  to  his  Maj- 
esty the  King  of  the  Irish.  It  will  be  a  new  laurel  to  add 
to  his  green  crown !  " 


And  thus  have  we  brought  to  a  conclusion  our  history  of 
the  great  French  Eevolution  of  1884.  It  records  the  ac- 
tions of  great  and  various  characters ;  the  deeds  of  vari- 
ous valour ;  it  narrates  wonderful  reverses  of  fortune ;  it 
affords  the  moralist  scope  for  his  philosophy ;  perhaps  it 
gives  amusement  to  the  merely  idle  reader.  Nor  must  the 
latter  imagine,  because  there  is  not  a  precise  moral  affixed 
to  the  story,  that  its  tendency  is  otherwise  than  good.  He 
is  a  poor  reader,  for  whom  his  author  is  obliged  to  supply 
a  moral  application.  It  is  well  in  spelling-books  and  for 
children;  it  is  needless  for  the  reflecting  spirit.  The 
drama  of  Punch  himself  is  not  moral ;  but  that  drama  has 
had  audiences  all  over  the  world.  Happy  he  who  in  our 
dark  times  can  cause  a  smile!  Let  us  laugh  then,  and 
gladden  in  the  sunshine,  though  it  be  but  as  the  ray  upon 
the  pool,  that  flickers  only  over  the  cold  black  depths 
below ! 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE 


CHAPTER  I. 

SIR  LUDWIG  OF  HOMBOURG. 

It  was  in  the  good  old  days  of  chivalry,  when  every  ^ 
mountain  that  bathes  its  shadow  in  the  Rhine  had  its 
castle :  not  inhabited,  as  now,  by  a  few  rats  and  owls,  nor 
covered  with  moss  and  wall-flowers,  and  funguses,  and 
creeping  ivy.  No,  no !  where  the  ivy  now  clusters  there 
grew  strong  portcullis  and  bars  of  steel ;  where  the  wall- 
flower now  quivers  on  the  rampart  there  were  silken  ban- 
ners embroidered  with  wonderful  heraldry;  men-at-arms 
marched  where  now  you  shall  only  see  a  bank  of  moss  or  a 
hideous  black  champignon ;  and  in  place  of  the  rats  and 
owlets,  I  warrant  me  there  were  ladies  and  knights  to  revel 
in  the  great  halls,  and  to  feast,  and  to  dance,  and  to  make  " 
love  there.  They  are  passed  away: — those  old  knights 
and  ladies :  their  golden  hair  first  changed  to  silver,  and 
then  the  silver  dropped  off  and  disappeared  for  ever ;  their 
elegant  legs,  so  slim  and  active  in  the  dance,  became  swol- 
len and  gouty,  and  then,  from  being  swollen  and  gouty, 
dwindled  down  to  bare  bone-shanks ;  the  roses  left  their 
cheeks,  and  then  their  cheeks  disappeared,  and  left  their 
skulls,  and  then  their  skulls  powdered  into  dust,  and  all 
sign  of  them  was  gone.  And  as  it  was  with  them,  so  shall 
it  be  with  us.  Ho,  seneschal!  fill  me  a  cup  of  liquor!  put 
sugar  in  it,  good  fellow — yea,  and  a  little  hot  water ;  a 
very  little,  for  my  soul  is  sad,  as  I  think  of  those  days  and 
knights  of  old. 

They,  too,  have  revelled  and  feasted,  and  where  are 
they? — gone? — nay;  not  altogether  gone;  for  doth  not  the 


236  A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


eye  catch  glimpses  of  them  as  they  walk  yonder  in  the  grey 
limbo  of  romance,  shining  faintly  in  their  coats  of  .steel, 
wandering  by  the  side  of  long-haired  ladies,  with  long- 
tailed  gowns  that  little  pages  carry?  Yes!  one  sees 
them :  the  poet  sees  them  still  in  the  far-off  Cloudland, 
and  hears  the  ring  of  their  clarions  as  they  hasten  to  battle 
or  tourney — and  the  dim  echoes  of  their  lutes  chanting  of 
love  and  fair  ladies !  Gracious  privilege  of  poesy !  It  is  as 
the  Dervish's  colly rium  to  the  eyes,  and  causes  them  to 
see  treasures  that  to  the  sight  of  donkeys  are  invisible. 
Blessed  treasures  of  fancy!  I  would  not  change  ye — no, 
not  for  many  donkey-loads  of  gold.  .  .  .  Fill  again,  jolly 
seneschal,  thou  brave  wag ;  chalk  me  up  the  produce  on  the 
hostel  door — surely  the  spirits  of  old  are  mixed  up  in  the 
wondrous  liquor,  and  gentle  visions  of  bygone  princes  and 
princesses  look  blandly  down  on  us  from  the  cloudy  per- 
fume of  the  pipe.  Do  you  know  in  what  year  the  fairies 
left  the  Rhine? — long  before  Murray's  Guide-Book  "  was 
wrote — long  before  squat  steamboats,  with  snorting  fun- 
nels, came  paddling  down  the  stream.  Do  you  not  know 
that  once  upon  a  time  the  appearance  of  eleven  thousand 
British  virgins  was  considered  at  Cologne  as  a  wonder? 
Now  there  come  twenty  thousand  such  annually,  accom- 
panied by  their  ladies' -maids.  But  of  them  we  will  say  no 
more — let  us  back  to  those  who  went  before  them. 

Many  many  hundred  thousand  years  ago,  and  at  the  ex- 
act period  when  chivalry  was  in  full  bloom,  there  occurred 
a  little  history  upon  the  banks  of  the  Ehine,  which  has 
been  already  written  in  a  book,  and  hence  must  be  posi- 
tively true.  'Tis  a  story  of  knights  and  ladies — of  love 
and  battle,  and  virtue  rewarded ;  a  story  of  princes  and 
noble  lords,  moreover :  the  best  of  company.  Gentles,  an 
ye  will,  ye  shall  hear  it.  Fair  dames  and  damsels,  may 
your  loves  be  as  happy  as  those  of  the  heroine  of  this 
romaunt. 

On  the  cold  and  rainy  evening  of  Thursday,  the  26th  of 
October,  in  the  year  previously  indicated,  such  travellers 
as  might  have  chanced  to  be  abroad  in  that  bitter  night, 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


237 


might  have  remarked  a  fellow-wayfarer  journeymg  on  the 
road  from  Oberwinter  to  Godesberg.  He  was  a  man  not 
tall  in  stature,  but  of  the  most  athletic  proportions,  and 
Time,  which  had  browned  and  furrowed  his  cheek  and 
sprinkled  his  locks  with  grey,  declared  pretty  clearly  that 
He  must  have  been  acquainted  with  the  warrior  for  some 
fifty  good  years.  He  was  armed  in  mail,  and  rode  a  pow- 
erful and  active  battle-horse,  which  (though  the  way  the 
pair  had  come  that  day  was  long  and  weary  indeed)  yet 
supported  the  warrior,  his  armour  and  luggage,  with 
seeming  ease.  As  it  was  in  a  friend's  country,  the  knight 
did  not  think  fit  to  wear  his  heavy  destrier,  or  helmet, 
v/hich  hung  at  his  saddle-bow  over  his  portmanteau.  Both 
were  marked  with  the  coronet  of  a  count ;  and  from  the ' 
crown  which  surmounted  the  helmet,  rose  the  crest  of  his 
knightly  race,  an  arm  proper  lifting  a  naked  sword. 

At  his  right  hand,  and  convenient  to  the  warrior's  grasp, 
hung  his  mangonel  or  mace — a  terrific  weapon  which  had 
shattered  the  brains  of  many  a  turbaned  soldan :  while  over 
his  broad  and  ample  chest  there  fell  the  triangular  shield 
of  the  period,  whereon  were  emblazoned  his  arms — argent, 
a  gules  wavy,  on  a  saltire  reversed  of  the  second :  the  lat- 
ter device  was  awarded  for  a  daring  exploit  before  Ascalon, 
by  the  Emperor  Maximilian,  and  a  reference  to  the  German 
Peerage  of  that  day,  or  a  knowledge  of  high  families  which 
every  gentleman  then  possessed,  would  have  sufficed  to 
show  at  once  that  the  rider  we  have  described  was  of  the 
noble  house  of  Hombourg.  It  was,  in  fact,  the  gallant 
knight  Sir  Ludwig  of  Hombourg :  his  rank  as  a  count,  and 
chamberlain  of  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  was  marked  by 
the  cap  of  maintenance  with  the  peacock's  feather  which  he 
wore  (when  not  armed  for  battle),  and  his  princely  blood 
was  denoted  by  the  oiled  silk  umbrella  which  he  carried  (a 
very  meet  protection  against  the  pitiless  storm),  and  which, 
as  it  is  known,  in  the  Middle  Ages,  none  but  princes  were 
justified  in  using.  A  bag,  fastened  with  a  brazen  padlock, 
and  made  of  the  costly  produce  of  the  Persian  looms  (then 
extremely  rare  in  Europe),  told  that  he  had  travelled  ia 


238 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


Eastern  climes.  This,  too,  was  evident  from  the  inscrip- 
tion writ  on  card  or  parchment,  and  sewed  on  the  bag.  It 
first  ran,  "  Count  Ludwig  de  Hombourg,  Jerusalem ;  but 
the  name  of  the  Holy  City  had  been  dashed  out  with  the 
pen,  and  that  of  "  Godesberg substituted.  So  far  indeed 
had  the  cavalier  travelled ! — and  it  is  needless  to  state  that 
the  bag  in  question  contained  such  remaining  articles  of  the 
toilet  as  the  high-born  noble  deemed  unnecessary  to  place 
in  his  valise. 

"  By  Saint  Bugo  of  Katzenellenbogen !  said  the  good 
knight,  shivering,  His  colder  here  than  at  Damascus! 
Marry,  I  am  so  hungry  I  could  eat  one  of  Saladin^s  camels. 
Shall  I  be  at  Godesberg  in  time  for  dinner?  And  taking 
out  his  horologe  (which  hung  in  a  small  side-pocket  of  his 
embroidered  surcoat),  the  crusader  consoled  himself  by 
finding  that  it  was  but  seven  of  the  night,  and  that  he 
would  reach  Godesberg  ere  the  warder  had  sounded  the 
second  gong. 

His  opinion  was  borne  out  by  the  result.  His  good 
steed,  which  could  trot  at  a  pinch  fourteen  leagues  in  the 
hour,  brought  him  to  this  famous  castle,  just  as  the  warder 
was  giving  the  first  welcome  signal  which  told  that  the 
princely  family  of  Count  Karl,  Margrave  of  Godesberg, 
were  about  to  prepare  for  their  usual  repast  at  eight 
o'clock.  Crowds  of  pages  and  horsekeepers  were  in  the 
court,  when,  the  portcullis  being  raised,  and  amidst  the 
respectful  salutes  of  the  sentinels,  the  most  ancient  friend 
of  the  house  of  Godesberg  entered  into  its  castle-yard. 
The  under-butler  stepped  forward  to  take  his  bridle-rein. 
"  Welcome,  Sir  Count,  from  the  Holy  Land ! "  exclaimed 
the  faithful  old  man.  Welcome,  Sir  Count,  from  the 
Holy  Land ! ''  cried  the  rest  of  the  servants  in  the  hall. 
A  stable  was  speedily  found  for  the  Count's  horse,  Streit- 
hengst,  and  it  was  not  before  the  gallant  soldier  had  seen 
that  true  animal  well  cared  for,  that  he  entered  the  castle 
itself,  and  was  conducted  to  his  chamber.  Wax  candles 
burning  bright  on  the  mantel,  flowers  in  china  vases,  every 
variety  of  soap,  and  a  flask  of  the  precious  essence  manu- 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


239 


factured  at  the  neighbouring  city  of  Cologne,  were  dis- 
played on  his  toilet  table ;  a  cheering  fire  crackled  on  the 
hearth/'  and  showed  that  the  good  knight's  coming  had 
been  looked  and  cared  for.  The  serving-maidens,  bringing 
him  hot  water  for  his  ablutions,  smiling  asked,  "  Would  he 
have  his  couch  warmed  at  eve?''  One  might  have  been 
sure  from  their  blushes  that  the  tough  old  soldier  made  an 
arch  reply.  The  family  tonsor  came  to  know  whether  the 
noble  Count  had  need  of  his  skill.  ^^By  Saint  Bugo,"  said 
the  knight,  as  seated  in  an  easy  settle  by  the  fire,  the  ton- 
sor rid  his  chin  of  its  stubbly  growth,  and  lightly  passed 
the  tongs  and  pomatum  through  the  sable  silver  "  of  his 
hair, — "By  Saint  Bugo,  this  is  better  than  my  dungeon  at 
Grand  Cairo.  How  is  my  godson  Otto,  master  barber;  and 
the  Lady  Countess,  his  mother ;  and  the  noble  Count  Karl, 
my  dear  brother-in-arms?  " 

"They  are  well,"  said  the  tonsor,  with  a  sigh. 

"By  Saint  Bugo,  I'm  glad  on't;  but  why  that  sigh?  " 

"Things  are  not  as  they  have  been  with  my  good  lord," 
answered  the  hairdresser,  "ever  since  Count  Gottfried's 
arrival." 

"  He  here !  "  roared  Sir  Ludwig.  "  Good  never  came 
where  Gottfried  was !  "  and  the  while  he  donned  a  pair  of 
silken  hose,  that  showed  admirably  the  proportions  of  his 
lower  limbs,  and  exchanged  his  coat  of  mail  for  the  spot- 
less vest  and  black  surcoat  collared  with  velvet  of  Genoa, 
which  was  the  fitting  costume  for  "knight  in  ladye's 
bower," — the  knight  entered  into  a  conversation  with  the 
barber,  who  explained  to  him,  with  the  usual  garrulousness 
of  his  tribe,  what  was  the  present  position  of  the  noble 
family  of  Godesberg. 

This  will  be  narrated  in  the  next  chapter. 


II — Vol.  19 


^40 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  GODESBERGERS. 

'Tis  needless  to  state  that  the  gallant  warrior  Lndwig 
of  Hombourg  found  in  the  bosom  of  his  friend's  family  a 
cordial  welcome.  The  brother-in-arms  of  the  Margrave 
Karl,  he  was  the  esteemed  friend  of  the  Margravine,  the 
exalted  and  beautiful  Theodora  of  Boppum,  and  (albeit  no 
theologian,  and  although  the  first  princes  of  Christendom 
coveted  such  an  honour)  he  was  selected  to  stand  as  sponsor 
for  the  Margrave's  son  Otto,  the  only  child  of  his  house. 

It  was  now  seventeen  years  since  the  Count  and  Countess 
had  been  united:  and  although  Heaven  had  not  blessed 
their  couch  with  more  than  one  child,  it  may  be  said  of 
that  one  that  it  was  a  prize,  and  that  surely  never  lighted 
on  the  earth  a  more  delightful  vision.  When  Count  Lud- 
wig,  hastening  to  the  holy  wars,  had  quitted  his  beloved 
godchild,  he  had  left  him  a  boy ;  he  now  found  him,  as  the 
iatter  rushed  into  his  arms,  grown  to  be  one  of  the  finest 
/oung  men  in  Germany :  tall  and  excessively  graceful  in 
proportion,  with  the  blush  of  health  mantling  upon  his 
cheek,  that  was  likewise  adorned  with  the  first  down  of 
manhood,  and  with  magnificent  golden  ringlets,  such  as  a 
Eowland  might  envy,  curling  over  his  brow  and  his  shoul- 
ders. His  eyes  alternately  beamed  with  the  fire  of  daring, 
or  melted  with  the  moist  glance  of  benevolence.  Well 
might  a  mother  be  proud  of  such  a  boy.  Well  might  the 
brave  Ludwig  exclaim,  as  he  clasped  the  youth  to  his 
breast,  "By  Saint  Bugo  of  Katzenellenbogen,  Otto,  thou 
art  fit  to  be  one  of  Coear  de  Lion's  grenadiers!  "  and  it  was 
the  fact:  the  "Childe''  of  Godesberg  measured  six  feet 
three. 

He  was  habited  for  the  evening  meal  in  the  costly  though 
simple  attire  of  the  nobleman  of  the  period — and  his  cos- 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


241 


tume  a  good  deal  resembled  that  of  the  old  knight  whose 
toilet  we  have  just  described ;  with  the  difference  of  colour, 
however.  The  pourpoint  worn  by  young  Otto  of  Godes- 
berg  was  of  blue,  handsomely  decorated  with  buttons  of 
carved  and  embossed  gold;  his  haut-de-chausses,  or  leg- 
gings, were  of  the  stuff  of  Nanquin,  then  brought  by  the 
Lombard  argosies  at  an  immense  price  from  China.  The 
neighbouring  country  of  Holland  had  supplied  his  wrists 
and  bosom  with  the  most  costly  laces ;  and  thus  attired, 
with  an  opera-hat  placed  on  one  side  of  his  head,  orna- 
mented with  a  single  flower  (that  brilliant  one,  the  tulip), 
the  boy  rushed  into  his  godfather's  dressing-room,  and 
warned  him  that  the  banquet  was  ready. 

It  was  indeed :  a  frown  had  gathered  on  the  dark  brows 
of  the  Lady  Theodora,  and  her  bosom  heaved  with  an  emo- 
tion akin  to  indignation ;  for  she  feared  lest  the  soups  in 
the  refectory  and  the  splendid  fish  now  smoking  there 
were  getting  cold :  she  feared  not  for  herself,  but  for  her 
lord's  sake.  "Godesberg,"  whispered  she  to  Count  Lud- 
wig,  as  trembling  on  his  arm  they  descended  from  the 
drawing-room,  ^^Godesberg  is  sadly  changed  of  late." 

By  Saint  Bugo ! "  said  the  burly  knight,  starting, 
*Hhese  are  the  very  words  the  barber  spake." 

The  lady  heaved  a  sigh,  and  placed  herself  before  the 
soup-tureen.  For  some  time  the  good  Knight  Ludwig  of 
Hombourg  was  too  much  occupied  in  ladling  out  the  force- 
meat balls  and  rich  calves'  head  of  which  the  delicious 
pottage  was  formed  (in  ladling  them  out,  did  we  say?  ay, 
marry,  and  in  eating  them,  too)  to  look  at  his  brother-in- 
arms at  the  bottom  of  the  table,  where  he  sat  with  his 
son  on  his  left  hand,  and  the  Baron  Gottfried  on  his  right. 

The  Margrave  was  indeed  changed.  "By  Saint  Bugo," 
whispered  Ludwig  to  the  Countess,  "  your  husband  is  as 
surly  as  a  bear  that  hath  been  wounded  o'  the  head.'^ 
Tears  falling  into  her  soup-plate  were  her  only  reply.  The 
soup,  the  turbot,  the  haunch  of  mutton.  Count  Ludwig  re- 
marked that  the  Margrave  sent  all  away  untasted. 

"The  boteler  will  serve  ye  with  wine,  Hombourg,"  said 


242 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  EHINE. 


the  Margrave  gloomily  from  the  end  of  the  table.  Not 
even  an  invitation  to  drink :  how  different  was  this  from 
the  old  times ! 

But  when,  in  compliance  with  this  order,  the  boteler 
proceeded  to  hand  round  the  mantling  vintage  of  the  Cape 
to  the  assembled  party,  and  to  fill  young  Otto's  goblet 
(which  the  latter  held  up  with  the  eagerness  of  youth),  the 
Margrave's  rage  knew  no  bounds.  He  rushed  at  his  son; 
he  dashed  the  wine-cup  over  his  spotless  vest ;  and  giving 
him  three  or  four  heavy  blows  which  would  have  knocked 
down  a  bonasus,  but  only  caused  the  young  Childe  to  blush  : 
"  You  take  wine ! ''  roared  out  the  Margrave ;  "  you  dare  to 
help  yourself!  Who  the  d-v-1  gave  yott  leave  to  help 
yourself? ''  and  the  terrible  blows  were  reiterated  over  the 
delicate  ears  of  the  boy. 

"Ludwig!  Ludwig!''  shrieked  the  Margravine. 

^^Hold  your  prate,  madam,''  roared  the  Prince.  ^^By 
Saint  Buffo,  mayn't  a  father  beat  his  own  child?  " 

"  His  OWN  CHILD !  "  repeated  the  Margrave  with  a  burst, 
almost  a  shriek,  of  indescribable  agony.  "Ah,  what  did  I 
say?  " 

Sir  Ludwig  looked  about  him  in  amaze ;  Sir  Gottfried 
(at  the  Margrave's  right  hand)  smiled  ghastlily ;  the  young 
Otto  was  too  much  agitated  by  the  recent  conflict  to  wear 
any  expression  but  that  of  extreme  discomfiture ;  but  the 
poor  Margravine  turned  her  head  aside  and  blushed,  red 
almost  as  the  lobster  which  flanked  the  turbot  before  her. 

In  those  rude  old  times,  'tis  known  such  table  quarrels 
were  by  no  means  unusual  amongst  gallant  knights ;  and 
Ludwig,  who  had  oft  seen  the  Margrave  cast  a  leg  of  mut- 
ton at  an  offending  servitor,  or  empty  a  sauce-boat  m  the 
direction  of  the  Margravine,  thought  this  was  but  one  of 
the  usual  outbreaks  of  his  worthy  though  irascible  friend, 
and  wisely  determined  to  change  the  converse. 

"How  is  my  friend,"  said  he,  "the  good  knight.  Sir 
Hildebrandt?  " 

"  By  Saint  Buffo,  this  is  too  much ! "  screamed  the  Mar- 
grave, and  actually  rushed  from  the  room. 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


243 


*^By  Saint  BagOj"  said  his  friend,  "gallant  knights, 
gentle  sirs,  what  ails  my  good  Lord  Margrave? 

"Perhaps  his  nose  bleeds,''  said  Gottfried  with  a  sneer. 

"Ah,  my  kind  friend,"  said  the  Margravine  with  uncon- 
trollable emotion,  "  I  fear  some  of  you  have  passed  from 
the  frying-pan  into  the  fire.''  And  making  the  signal  of 
departure  to  the  ladies,  they  rose  and  retired  to  coffee  in 
the  drawing-room. 

The  Margrave  presently  came  back  again,  somewhat 
more  collected  than  he  had  been.  "  Otto,"  he  said  sternly, 
"  go  join  the  ladies :  it  becomes  not  a  young  boy  to  remain 
in  the  company  of  gallant  knights  after  dinner."  The 
noble  Childe  with  manifest  unwillingness  quitted  the  room, 
and  the  Margrave,  taking  his  lady's  place  at  the  head  of 
the  table,  whispered  to  Sir  Ludwig,  Hildebrandt  will 
be  here  to-night  to  an  evening  party,  given  in  honour  of 
your  return  from  Palestine.  My  good  friend — my  true 
friend — my  old  companion  in  arms.  Sir  Gottfried !  you  had 
best  see  that  the  tiddlers  be  not  drunk,  and  that  the  crum- 
pets be  gotten  ready."  Sir  Gottfried,  obsequiously  taking 
his  patron's  hint,  bowed  and  left  the  room. 

"You  shall  know  all  soon,  dear  Ludwig,"  said  the  Mar- 
grave with  a  heartrending  look.  "  You  marked  Gottfried, 
who  left  the  room  anon?  " 

"I  did." 

"  You  look  incredulous  concerning  his  worth ;  but  I  tell 
thee,  Ludwig,  that  yonder  Gottfried  is  a  good  fellow,  and 
my  fast  friend.  Why  should  he  not  be?  He  is  my  near 
relation,  heir  to  my  property :  should  I "  (here  the  Mar- 
grave's countenance  assumed  its  former  expression  of  ex- 
cruciating agony), — ^'should  I  have  no  son.^^ 

"But  I  never  saw  the  boy  in  better  health,"  replied  Sir 
Ludwig. 

"Nevertheless, — ha!  ha! — it  may  chance  that  I  shall 
soon  have  no  son." 

The  Margrave  had  crushed  many  a  cup  of  wine  during 
dinner,  and  Sir  Ludwig  thought  naturally  that  his  gallant 
friend  had  drunken  rather  deeply.    He  proceeded  in  this 


244 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


respect  to  imitate  him ;  for  the  stern  soldier  of  those  days 
neither  shrunk  before  the  Paynim  nor  the  punch- bowl :  and 
many  a  rousing  night  had  our  crusader  enjoyed  in  Syria 
with  lion-hearted  Richard;  with  his  coadjutor,  Godfrey  of 
Bouillon ;  nay,  with  the  dauntless  Saladin  himself. 

"  You  knew  Gottfried  in  Palestine?    asked  the  Marquis- 

"I  did." 

"  Why  did  ye  not  greet  him  then,  as  ancient  comrades 
should,  with  the  warm  grasp  of  friendship?  It  is  not  be- 
cause Sir  Gottfried  is  poor?  You  know  well  that  he  is  of 
race  as  noble  as  thme  own,  my  early  friend ! 

^'I  care  not  for  his  race  nor  for  his  poverty,"  replied  the 
blunt  crusader.  "What  says  the  Minnesinger?  ^ Marry, 
the  rank  is  but  the  stamp  of  the  guinea ;  the  man  is  the 
gold.'  And  I  tell  thee,  Karl  of  Godesberg,  that  yonder 
Gottfried  is  base  metal." 

"By  Saint  Buffo,  thou  beliest  him,  dear  Ludwig." 

"By  Saint  Bugo,  dear  Karl,  I  say  sooth.  The  fellow 
was  known  i'  the  camp  of  the  crusaders — disreputably 
known.  Ere  he  joined  us  in  Palestine,  he  had  sojourned 
in  Constantinople,  and  learned  the  arts  of  the  Greek.  He 
is  a  cogger  of  dice,  I  tell  thee — a  chanter  of  horseflesh. 
He  won  five  thousand  marks  from  bluff  Bichard  of  Eng- 
land the  night  before  the  storming  of  Ascalon,  and  I  caught 
him  with  false  trumps  in  his  pocket.  He  warranted  a  bay 
mare  to  Conrad  of  Mont  Serrat,  and  the  rogue  had  fired 
her." 

"  Ha !  mean  ye  that  Sir  Gottfried  is  a  leg  ?  "  cried  Sir 
Karl,  knitting  his  brows.  "  Now,  by  my  blessed  patron, 
Saint  Buffo  of  Bonn,  had  any  other  but  Ludwig  of  Hom- 
bourg  so  said,  I  would  have  cloven  him  from  skull  to  chine." 

"  By  Saint  Bugo  of  Katzenellenbogen,  I  will  prove  my 
words  on  Sir  Gottfried's  body — not  on  thine,  old  brother- 
in-arms.  And  to  do  the  knave  justice,  he  is  a  good  lance. 
Holy  Bugo!  but  he  did  good  service  at  Acre!  But  his 
character  was  such  that,  spite  of  his  bravery,  he  was  dis- 
missed the  army;  nor  even  allowed  to  sell  his  captain's 
commission." 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


245 


have  heard  of  it/'  said  the  Margrave;  "Gottfried 
fcath  told  me  of  it.  'Twas  about  some  silly  quarrel  over 
the  wine-cup — a  mere  silly  jape,  believe  me.  Hugo  de 
Brodenel  would  have  no  black  bottle  on  the  board.  Gott- 
fried was  wroth,  and,  to  say  sooth,  flung  the  black  bottle  at 
the  Count's  head.  Hence  his  dismission  and  abrupt  re- 
turn. But  you  know  not,''  continued  the  Margrave,  with 
a  heavy  sigh,  "  of  what  use  that  worthy  Gottfried  has  been 
to  me.    He  has  uncloaked  a  traitor  to  me." 

"Not         answered  Hombourg  satirically. 

"By  Saint  Buffo!  a  deep-dyed  dastard!  a  dangerous 
damnable  traitor! — a  nest  of  traitors.  Hildebrandt  is  a 
traitor — Otto  is  a  traitor — and  Theodora  (0  Heaven!)  she 
— she  is  another, "  The  old  Prince  burst  into  tears  at  the 
word,  and  was  almost  choked  with  emotion. 

"What  means  this  passion,  dear  friend?  "  cried  Sir  Lud- 
wig,  seriously  alarmed. 

"Mark,  Ludwig!  mark  Hildebrandt  and  Theodora  to- 
gether: mark  Hildebrandt  and  Otto  together.  Like,  like 
I  tell  thee  as  two  peas.  0  holy  saints,  that  I  should  be 
born  to  suffer  this ! — to  have  all  my  affections  wrenched 
out  of  my  bosom,  and  to  be  left  alone  in  my  old  age !  But, 
hark !  the  guests  are  arriving.  An  ye  will  not  empty  an- 
other flask  of  claret,  I^^^t  us  join  the  ladyes  i'  the  withdraw- 
ing chamber.    When,  there,  mark  Hildebrandt  and  Otto  I 


246 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  FESTIVAL. 

The  festival  was  indeed  begun.  Coming  on  horseback, " 
or  in  their  caroches,  knights  and  ladies  of  the  highest  rank 
were  assembled  in  the  grand  saloon  of  Godesberg,  which 
was  splendidly  illuminated  to  receive  them.  Servitors,  in 
rich  liveries  (they  were  attired  in  doublets  of  the  sky-blue 
broadcloth  of  Ypres,  and  hose  of  the  richest  yellow  sammit 
— the  colours  of  the  house  of  Godesberg),  bore  about  vari- 
ous refreshments  on  trays  of  silver — cakes,  baked  in  the 
oven,  and  swimming  in  melted  butter;  munchets  of  bread, 
smeared  with  the  same  delicious  condiment,  and  carved  so 
thin  that  you  might  have  expected  them  to  take  wing  and 
fly  to  the  ceiling ;  coffee,  introduced  by  Peter  the  Hermit, 
after  his  excursion  into  Arabia,  and  tea  such  as  only  Bo- 
hemia could  produce,  circulated  amidst  the  festive  throng, 
and  were  eagerly  devoured  by  the  guests.  The  Margrave's 
gloom  was  unheeded  by  them — how  little  indeed  is  the 
smiling  crowd  aware  of  the  pangs  that  are  lurking  in  the 
breasts  of  those  who  bid  them  to  the  feast !  The  Margra- 
vine was  pale ;  but  woman  knows  how  to  deceive ;  she  was 
more  than  ordinarily  courteous  to  her  friends,  and  laughed, 
though  the  laugh  was  hollow ;  and  talked,  though  the  talk 
was  loathsome  to  her. 

"The  two  are  together,''  said  the  Margrave,  clutching 
his  friend's  shoulder.    "  Now  look  !  " 

Sir  Ludwig  turned  towards  a  quadrille,  and  there,  sure 
enough,  were  Sir  Hildebrandt  and  young  Otto  standing  side 
by  side  in  the  dance.  Two  eggs  were  not  more  like!  The 
reason  of  the  Margrave's  horrid  suspicion  at  once  flashed 
across  his  friend's  mind. 

"'Tis  clear  as  the  staff  of  a  pike,"  said  the  poor  Mar- 
grave mournfully.    "  Come,  brother,  away  from  the  scene ; 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


247 


let  us  go  play  a  game  at  cribbage ! "  and  retiring  to  the 
Margravine's  boudoir j  the  two  warriors  sat  down  to  the 
game. 

But  though  'tis  an  interesting  one,  and  though  the  Mar- 
grave won,  yet  he  could  not  keep  his  attention  on  the 
cards:  so  agitated  was  his  mind  by  the  dreadful  secret 
which  weighed  upon  it.  In  the  midst  of  their  play,  the 
obsequious  Gottfried  came  to  whisper  a  word  in  his  pa- 
tron's ear,  which  threw  the  latter  into  such  a  fury,  that 
apoplexy  was  apprehended  by  the  two  lookers-on.  But  the 
Margrave  mastered  his  emotion.  "  At  what  time,  did  you 
say?  "  said  he  to  Gottfried. 

"At  daybreak,  at  the  outer  gate." 

"I  will  be  there." 
And  so  will  I  too,"  thought  Count  Ludwig,  the  good 
Knight  of  Hombourg. 


248 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


CHAPTER  ly. 

THE  FLIGHT. 

How  often  does  man,  proud  man,  make  calculations  for 
the  future,  and  think  he  can  bend  stern  fate  to  his  will ! 
Alas,  we  are  but  creatures  in  its  hands !  How  many  a 
slip  between  the  lip  and  the  lifted  wine-cup !  How  often, 
though  seemingly  with  a  choice  of  couches  to  repose  upon, 
do  we  find  ourselves  dashed  to  earth ;  and  then  we  are  fain 
to  say  the  grapes  are  sour,  because  we  cannot  attain  them ; 
or  worse,  to  yield  to  anger  in  consequence  of  our  own 
fault.  Sir  Ludwig,  the  Hombourger,  was  not  at  the  outer 
gate  at  daybreak. 

He  slept  until  ten  of  the  clock.  The  previous  night's 
potations  had  been  heavy,  the  day's  journey  had  been  long 
and  rough.  The  knight  slept  as  a  soldier  would,  to  whom 
a  feather  bed  is  a  rarity,  and  who  wakes  not  till  he  hears 
the  blast  of  the  reveille. 

He  looked  up  as  he  woke.  At  his  bedside  sat  the  Mar- 
grave. He  had  been  there  for  hours,  watching  his  slum- 
bering comrade.  Watching? — no,  not  watching,  but  awake 
by  his  side,  brooding  over  thoughts  unutterably  bitter — 
over  feelings  inexpressibly  wretched. 

"  WhaVs  o'clock?  "  was  the  first  natural  exclamation  of 
the  Hombourger. 

^'I  believe  it  is  five  o'clock,"  said  his  friend.  It  was 
ten.  It  might  have  been  twelve,  two,  half-past  four, 
twenty  minutes  to  six,  the  Margrave  would  still  have  said, 
"i  believe  it  is  five  o^clock.^^  The  wretched  take  no  count 
of  time :  it  flies  with  unequal  pinions,  indeed,  for  them. 

"  Is  breakfast  over?  "  inquired  the  crusader. 

"Ask  the  butler,"  said  the  Margrave,  nodding  his  head 
wildly,  rolling  his  eyes  wildly,  smiling  wildly. 

"  Gracious  Bugo !  "  said  the  Knight  of  Hombourg,  "  what 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


249 


has  ailed  thee,  my  friend?  It  is  ten  o'clock  by  my  hor- 
ologe. Your  regular  hour  is  nine.  You  are  not — no,  by 
heavens!  you  are  not  shaved!  You  wear  the  tights  and 
silken  hose  of  last  evening's  banquet.  Your  collar  is  all 
rumpled — 'tis  that  of  yesterday.  You  have  not  been  to  bed  ! 
What  has  chanced,  brother  of  mine ;  what  has  chanced? '' 

"A  common  chance,  Louis  of  Hombourg,"  said  the  Mar- 
grave :  "  one  that  chances  every  day.  A  false  woman,  a 
false  friend,  a  broken  heart.  This  has  chanced.  I  have 
not  been  to  bed.'' 

"  What  mean  ye?  "  cried  Count  Ludwig,  deeply  affected. 
A  false  friend?   /  am  not  a  false  friend.    A  false  woman? 

Surely  the  lovely  Theodora,  your  wife  

I  have  no  wife,  Louis,  now ;  I  have  no  wife  and  no 
son." 

In  accents  broken  by  grief,  the  Margrave  explained  what 
had  occurred.  Gottfried's  information  was  but  too  correct. 
There  was  a  caicse  for  the  likeness  between  Otto  and  Sir 
Hildebrandt:  a  fatal  cause!  Hildebrandt  and  Theodora 
had  met  at  dawn  at  the  outer  gate.  The  Margrave  had  seen 
them.  They  walked  along  together;  they  embraced.  Ah! 
how  the  husband's,  the  father's,  feelings  were  harrowed  at 
that  embrace !  They  parted ;  and  then  the  Margrave,  com- 
ing forward,  coldly  signified  to  his  lady  that  she  was  to 
retire  to  a  convent  for  life,  and  gave  orders  that  the  boy 
should  be  sent  too,  to  take  the  vows  at  a  monastery. 

Both  sentences  had  been  executed.  Otto,  in  a  boat,  and 
guarded  by  a  company  of  his  father's  men-at-arms,  was  on 
the  river  going  towards  Cologne,  to  the  Monastery  of  Saint 
Buffo  there.  The  Lady  Theodora,  under  the  guard  of  Sir 
Gottfried  and  an  attendant,  were  on  their  way  to  the  con- 
vent of  Nonnenwerth,  which  many  of  our  readers  have 
seen — the  beautiful  Green  Island  Convent,  laved  by  the 
bright  waters  of  the  Ehine ! 

"  What  road  did  Gottfried  take?  "  asked  the  Knight  of 
Hombourg,  grinding  his  teeth. 

"You  cannot  overtake  him,"  said  the  Margrave.  "My^ 


250 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


good  Gottfried,  he  is  my  ouly  comfort  now :  he  is  my  kins- 
man, and  shall  be  my  heir.    He  will  be  back  anon." 

"  Will  he  so?  "  thought  Sir  Ludwig.  "  I  will  ask  him  a 
few  questions  ere  he  return.'^  And  springing  from  his 
couch,  he  began  forthwith  to  put  on  his  usual  morning  dress 
of  complete  armour :  and,  after  a  hasty  ablution,  donned, 
not  his  cap  of  maintenance,  but  his  helmet  of  battle.  He 
rang  the  bell  violently. 

"A  cup  of  coffee,  straight,"  said  he,  to  the  servitor  who 
answered  the  summons ;  "  bid  the  cook  pack  me  a  sausage 
and  bread  in  paper,  and  the  groom  saddle  Streithengst :  we 
have  far  to  ride." 

The  various  orders  were  obeyed.  The  horse  was  brought ; 
the  refreshments  disposed  of ;  the  clattering  steps  of  the 
departing  steed  were  heard  in  the  courtyard;  but  the  Mar- 
grave took  no  notice  of  his  friend,  and  sat,  plunged  in 
silent  grief,  quite  motionless  by  the  empty  bedside. 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  EHINE. 


251 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  TRAITOR'S  DOOM. 

The  Hombourger  led  his  horse  down  the  winding  path 
which  conducts  from  the  hill  and  castle  of  Godesberg  into 
the  beautiful  green  plain  below.  Who  has  not  seen  that 
lovely  plain,  and  who  that  has  seen  it  has  not  loved  it?  A 
thousand  sunny  vineyards  and  cornfields  stretch  around  in 
peaceful  luxuriance ;  the  mighty  Rhine  floats  by  it  in  sil- 
ver magnificence,  and  on  the  opposite  bank  rise  the  seven 
mountains  robed  in  majestic  purple,  the  monarchs  of  the 
royal  scene. 

A  pleasing  poet.  Lord  Byron,  in  describing  this  very 
scene,  has  mentioned  that  "  peasant  girls,  with  dark  blue 
eyes,  and  hands  that  offer  cake  and  wine,"  are  perpetually 
crowding  round  the  traveller  in  this  delicious  district,  and 
proffering  to  him  their  rustic  presents.  This  was  no  doubt 
the  case  in  former  days,  when  the  noble  bard  wrote  his 
elegant  poems — in  the  happy  ancient  days !  when  maidens 
were  as  yet  generous,  and  men  kindly !  Now  the  degen- 
erate peasantry  of  the  district  are  much  more  inclined  to 
ask  than  to  give,  and  their  blue  eyes  seem  to  have  disap- 
peared with  their  generosity. 

But  as  it  was  a  long  time  ago  that  the  events  of  our 
story  occurred,  His  probable  that  the  good  Knight  Ludwig 
of  Hombourg  was  greeted  upon  his  path  by  this  fascinating 
peasantry ;  though  we  know  not  how  he  accepted  their 
welcome.  He  continued  his  ride  across  the  flat  green 
country  until  he  came  to  Eolandseck,  whence  he  could 
command  the  Island  of  Nonnenwerth  (that  lies  in  the  Rhine 
opposite  that  place),  and  all  who  went  to  it  or  passed 
from  it. 

Over  the  entrance  of  a  little  cavern  in  one  of  the  rocks 
hanging  above  the  Ehine-stream  at  Eolandseck,  and  cov- 


252 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


ered  with  odoriferous  cactuses  and  silvery  magnolias,  the 
traveller  of  the  present  day  may  perceive  a  rude  broken 
image  of  a  saint:  that  image  represented  the  venerable 
Saint  Buffo  of  Bonn,  the  patron  of  the  Margrave ;  and  Sir 
Ludwig,  kneeling  on  the  greensward,  and  reciting  a  censer, 
an  ave,  and  a  couple  of  acolytes  before  it,  felt  encouraged 
to  think  that  the  deed  he  meditated  was  about  to  be  per- 
formed under  the  very  eyes  of  his  friend's  sanctified  pa- 
tron. His  devotion  done  (and  the  knight  of  those  days 
was  as  pious  as  he  was  brave),  Sir  Ludwig,  the  gallant 
Hombourger,  exclaimed  with  a  loud  voice : — 

"  Ho !  hermit !  holy  hermit,  art  thou  in  thy  cell ! 

"  Who  calls  the  poor  servant  of  Heaven  and  Saint 
Buffo?  exclaimed  a  voice  from  the  cavern;  and  presently, 
from  beneath  the  wreaths  of  geranium  and  magnolia,  ap- 
peared an  intensely  venerable,  ancient,  and  majestic  head 
— 'twas  that,  we  need  not  say,  of  Saint  Buffo's  solitary. 
A  silver  beard  hanging  to  his  knees  gave  his  person  an  ap- 
pearance of  great  respectability;  his  body  was  robed  in 
simple  brown  serge,  and  girt  with  a  knotted  cord;  his  an- 
cient feet  were  only  defended  from  the  prickles  and  stones  by 
the  rudest  sandals,  and  his  bald  and  polished  head  was  bare. 

"Holy  hermit,"  said  the  knight  in  a  grave  voice,  "make 
ready  thy  ministry,  for  there  is  some  one  about  to  die." 

"Where,  son?" 

"Here,  father." 

"Is  he  here,  now?  " 

"Perhaps,"  said  the  stout  warrior,  crossing  himself; 
"but  not  so  if  right  prevail."  At  this  moment  he  caught 
sight  of  a  ferry-boat  putting  off  from  Nonnenwerth,  with 
a  knight  on  board.  Ludwig  knew  at  once,  by  the  sinople 
reversed  and  the  truncated  gules  on  his  surcoat,  that  it  was 
Sir  Gottfried  of  Godesberg. 

"Be  ready,  father,"  said  the  good  knight,  pointing 
towards  the  advancing  boat ;  and  waving  his  hand  by  way 
of  respect  to  the  reverend  hermit,  without  a  further  word 
he  vaulted  into  his  saddle,  and  rode  back  for  a  few  score 
of  paces,  when  he  wheeled  round,  and  remained  steady. 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


253 


His  great  lance  and  pennon  rose  in  the  air.  His  armour 
glistened  in  the  sun ;  the  chest  and  head  of  his  battle-horse 
were  similarly  covered  with  steel.  As  Sir  Gottfried,  like- 
wise armed  and  mounted  (for  his  horse  had  been  left  at  the 
ferry  hard  by),  advanced  up  the  road,  he  almost  started 
at  the  figure  before  him — a  glistening  tower  of  steel. 

"Are  you  the  lord  of  this  pass,  Sir  Knight?"  said  Sir 
Gottfried  haughtily,  "  or  do  you  hold  it  against  all  comers, 
in  honour  of  your  lady-love?  " 

"I  am  not  the  lord  of  this  pass.  I  do  not  hold  it  against 
all  comers.  I  hold  it  but  against  one,  and  he  is  a  liar  and 
a  traitor." 

"As  the  matter  concerns  me  not,  I  pray  you  let  me 
pass,"  said  Gottfried. 

"  The  matter  does  concern  thee,  Gottfried  of  Godesberg, 
Liar  and  traitor!  art  thou  coward,  too?  " 

"Holy  Saint  Buffo!  'tis  a  fight!"  exclaimed  the  old 
hermit  (who,  too,  had  been  a  gallant  warrior  in  his  day) ; 
and  like  the  old  war-horse  that  hears  the  trumpet's  sound, 
and  spite  of  his  clerical  profession,  he  prepared  to  look  on 
at  the  combat  with  no  ordinary  eagerness,  and  sat  down  on 
the  overhanging  ledge  of  the  rock,  lighting  his  pipe,  and 
affecting  unconcern,  but  in  reality  most  deeply  interested 
in  the  event  which  was  about  to  ensue. 

As  soon  as  the  word  "  coward  "  had  been  pronounced  by 
Sir  Ludwig,  his  opponent,  uttering  a  curse  far  too  horrible 
to  be  inscribed  here,  had  wheeled  back  his  powerful  pie- 
bald, and  brought  his  lance  to  the  rest. 

"Ha!  Beauseant!"  cried  he.  "Allah  humdillah!'' 
'Twas  the  battle-cry  in  Palestine  of  the  irresistible  Knights 
Hospitallers.  "Look  to  thyself.  Sir  Knight,  and  for 
mercy  from  Heaven,    /will  give  thee  none." 

"  A  Bugo  for  Katzenellenbogen ! "  exclaimed  Sir  Ludwig 
piously:  that,  too,  was  the  well-known  war-cry  of  his 
princely  race. 

"I  will  give  the  signal,"  said  the  old  hermit,  waving  his 
pipe.  "  Knights,  are  you  ready?  One,  two,  three.  Los  !  " 
(Let  go.) 


254 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


At  the  signal,  the  two  steeds  tore  up  the  ground  like 
whirlwinds;  the  two  knights,  two  flashing  perpendicular 
masses  of  steel,  rapidly  converged;  the  two  lances  met 
upon  the  two  shields  of  either,  and  shivered,  splintered, 
shattered  into  ten  hundred  thousand  pieces,  which  whirled 
through  the  air  here  and  there,  among  the  rocks,  or  in  the 
trees,  or  in  the  river.  The  two  horses  fell  back  trembling 
on  their  haunches,  where  they  remained  for  half  a  minute 
or  so. 

"  Holy  Buffo !  a  brave  stroke ! said  the  old  hermit. 
"  Marry,  but  a  splinter  well-nigh  took  off  my  nose !  The 
honest  hermit  waved  his  pipe  in  delight,  not  perceiving 
that  one  of  the  splinters  had  carried  off  the  head  of  it,  and 
rendered  his  favourite  amusement  impossible,  "Ha!  they 
are  to  it  again !  0  my !  how  they  go  to  with  their  great 
swords!  Well  stricken,  grey!  Well  parried,  piebald! 
Ha,  that  was  a  slicer!    Go  it,  piebald!  go  it,  grey! — go 

it,  grey!  go  it,  pie  ■    Peccavi!  peccavi!"  said  the  old 

man,  here  suddenly  closing  his  eyes,  and  falling  down  on 
his  knees.  "I  forgot  I  was  a  man  of  peace."  And  the 
next  moment,  uttering  a  hasty  matin,  he  sprang  down  the 
ledge  of  rock,  and  was  by  the  side  of  the  combatants. 

The  battle  was  over.  Good  knight  as  Sir  Gottfried  was, 
his  strength  and  skill  had  not  been  able  to  overcome  Sir 
Ludwig  the  Hombourger,  with  right  on  his  side.  He  was 
bleeding  at  every  point  of  his  armour :  he  had  been  run 
through  the  body  several  times,  and  a  cut  in  tierce,  de- 
livered with  tremendous  dexterity,  had  cloven  the  crown 
of  his  helmet  of  Damascus  steel,  and  passing  through  the 
cerebellum  and  sensorium,  had  split  his  nose  almost  in 
twain. 

His  mouth  foaming — his  face  almost  green — his  eyes  full 
of  blood — his  brains  spattered  over  his  forehead,  and  sev- 
eral of  his  teeth  knocked  out — the  discomfited  warrior  pre- 
sented a  ghastly  spectacle,  as,  reeling  under  the  effects  of 
the  last  tremendous  blow  which  the  Knight  of  Hombourg 
dealt.  Sir  Gottfried  fell  heavily  from  the  saddle  of  his  pie- 
bald charger  j  the  frightened  animal  whisked  his  tail  wildly 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


255 


with  a  shriek  and  a  snort,  plunged  out  his  hind  legs, 
trampling  for  one  moment  upon  the  feet  of  the  prostrate 
Gottfried,  thereby  causing  him  to  shriek  with  agony,  and 
then  galloped  away  riderless. 

Away !  ay,  away ! — away  amid  the  green  vineyards  and 
golden  cornfields ;  away  up  the  steep  mountains,  where  he 
frightened  the  eagles  in  their  eyries ;  away  down  the  clat- 
tering ravines,  where  the  flashing  cataracts  tumble ;  away 
through  the  dark  pine-forests,  where  the  hungry  wolves 
are  howling ;  away  over  the  dreary  wolds,  where  the  wild 
wind  walks  alone ;  away  through  the  plashing  quagmires, 
where  the  will-o'-the-wisp  slunk  frightened  among  the 
reeds ;  away  through  light  and  darkness,  storm  and  sun- 
shine; away  by  tower  and  town,  highroad  and  hamlet. 
Once  a  turnpike-man  would  have  detained  him;  but,  ha! 
ha!  he  charged  the  pike,  and  cleared  it  at  a  bound.  Once 
the  Cologne  Diligence  stopped  the  way:  he  charged  the 
Diligence,  he  knocked  off  the  cap  of  the  conductor  on  the 
roof,  and  yet  galloped  wildly,  madly,  furiously,  irresistibly 
on !  Brave  horse !  gallant  steed !  snorting  child  of  Araby ! 
On  went  the  horse,  over  mountains,  rivers,  turnpikes, 
apple-women ;  and  never  stopped  until  he  reached  a  livery- 
stable  in  Cologne  where  his  master  was  accustomed  to  put 
him  up. 


256 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


CHAPTER  VL 

THE  CONFESSION. 

But  we  have  forgotten,  meanwhile,  the  prostrate  indi- 
vidual. Having  examined  the  wounds  in  his  side,  legs, 
head,  and  throat,  the  old  hermit  (a  skilful  leech)  knelt 
down  by  the  side  of  the  vanquished  one  and  said,  "Sir 
Knight,  it  is  my  painful  duty  to  state  to  you  that  you  are 
in  an  exceedingly  dangerous  condition,  and  will  not  prob- 
ably survive.'^ 

Say  you  so,  Sir  Priest?  then  'tis  time  I  make  my  con- 
fession. Hearken  you.  Priest,  and  you.  Sir  Knight,  who- 
ever you  be." 

Sir  Ludwig  (who,  much  affected  by  the  scene,  had  been 
tying  his  horse  up  to  a  tree)  lifted  his  visor  and  said, 
"  Gottfried  of  Godesberg !  I  am  the  friend  of  thy  kinsman, 
Margrave  Karl,  whose  happiness  thou  hast  ruined ;  I  am 
the  friend  of  his  chaste  and  virtuous  lady,  whose  fair  fame 
thou  hast  belied;  I  am  the  godfather  of  young  Count  Otto, 
whose  heritage  thou  wouldst  have  appropriated.  There- 
fore I  met  thee  in  deadly  fight,  and  overcame  thee,  and 
have  well-nigh  finished  thee.    Speak  on." 

"I  have  done  all  this,"  said  the  dying  man,  "and  here, 
in  my  last  hour,  repent  me.  The  Lady  Theodora  is  a  spot- 
less lady ;  the  youthful  Otto  the  true  son  of  his  father — 
Sir  Hildebrandt  is  not  his  father,  but  his  uncle,'' 

"  Gracious  Buffo !  "  "  Celestial  Bugo !  "  here  said  the 
hermit  and  the  Knight  of  Hombourg  simultaneously,  clasp- 
ing their  hands. 

"Yes,  his  uncle;  but  with  the  bar-sinister  in  his  'scutch- 
eon. Hence  he  could  never  be  acknowledged  by  the  family ; 
hence,  too,  the  Lady  Theodora's  spotless  purity  (though 
the  young  people  had  been  brought  up  together)  could 
never  be  brought  to  own  the  relationship." 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


257 


"May  I  repeat  your  confession?     asked  the  hermit. 

"  With  the  greatest  pleasure  in  life :  carry  my  confession 
to  the  Margrave,  and  pray  him  give  me  pardon.  Were 
there — a  notary-public  present,"  slowly  gasped  the  knight, 
the  film  of  dissolution  glazing  over  his  eyes,  "  I  would  ask 
— you — two — gentlemen  to  witness  it.  I  would  gladly — 
sign  the  deposition — that  is,  if  I  could  wr-wr-wr-wr-ite ! 
A  faint  shuddering  smile — a  quiver,  a  gasp,  a  gurgle — the 
blood  gushed  from  his  mouth  in  black  volumes.  .  .  . 

"He  will  never  sin  more,'^  said  the  hermit  solemnly. 

"  May  Heaven  assoilzie  him !  "  said  Sir  Ludwig.  "  Her- 
mit, he  was  a  gallant  knight.  He  died  with  harness  on 
his  back,  and  with  truth  on  his  lips :  Ludwig  of  Hombourg 
would  ask  no  other  death.  .  . 

An  hour  afterwards  the  principal  servants  at  the  Castle 
of  Godesberg  were  rather  surprised  to  see  the  noble  Lord 
Louis  trot  into  the  courtyard  of  the  castle,  with  a  com- 
panion on  the  crupper  of  his  saddle.  'Twas  the  venerable 
Hermit  of  Eolandseck,  who,  for  the  sake  of  greater  celer- 
.  ity,  had  adopted  this  undignified  conveyance,  and  whose 
appearance  and  little  dumpy  legs  might  well  create  hilarity 
among  the  "  pampered  menials who  are  always  found 
lounging  about  the  houses  of  the  great.  He  skipped  off 
the  saddle  with  considerable  lightness,  however ;  and  Sir 
Ludwig,  taking  the  reverend  man  by  the  arm,  and  frowning 
the  jeering  servitors  into  awe,  bade  one  of  them  lead  him 
to  the  presence  of  His  Highness  the  Margrave. 

"What  has  chanced?"  said  the  inquisitive  servitor. 
"  The  riderless  horse  of  Sir  Gottfried  was  seen  to  gallop  by 
the  outer  wall  anon.  The  Margrave^ s  Grace  has  never 
quitted  your  Lordship's  chamber,  and  sits  as  one  dis- 
traught." 

"  Hold  thy  prate,  knave,  and  lead  us  on !  "  And  so  say- 
ing, the  Knight  and  his  Eeverence  moved  into  the  well- 
known  apartment,  where,  according  to  the  servitor's  de- 
scription, the  wretched  Margrave  sat  like  a  stone. 

Ludwig  took  one  of  the  kind  broken-hearted  man's 
hands,  the  hermit  seized  the  other,  and  began  (but  on  ac- 


258 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


count  of  his  great  age,  with  a  prolixity  which  we  shall  not 
endeavour  to  imitate)  to  narrate  the  events  which  we  have 
already  described.  Let  the  dear  reader  fancy,  the  while 
his  Eeverence  speaks,  the  glazed  eyes  of  the  Margrave 
gradually  lighting  up  with  attention;  the  flush  of  joy  which 
mantles  in  his  countenance — the  start — the  throb — the  al- 
most delirious  outburst  of  hysteric  exultation  with  which, 
when  the  whole  truth  was  made  known,  he  clasped  the  two 
messengers  of  glad  tidings  to  his  breast,  with  an  energy 
that  almost  choked  the  aged  recluse!  "Eide,  ride  this 
instant  to  the  Margravine — say  I  have  wronged  her,  that  it 
is  all  right,  that  she  may  come  back — that  I  forgive  her — 
that  I  apologise,  if  you  will " — and  a  secretary  forthwith 
despatched  a  note  to  that  effect,  which  was  carried  off  by  a 
fleet  messenger. 

"  Now  write  to  the  Superior  of  the  monastery  at  Cologne, 
and  bid  him  send  me  back  my  boy,  my  darling,  my  Otto — 
my  Otto  of  roses ! said  the  fond  father,  making  the  first 
play  upon  words  he  had  ever  attempted  in  his  life.  But 
what  will  not  paternal  love  effect?  The  secretary  (smiling 
at  the  joke)  wrote  another  letter,  and  another  fleet  messen- 
ger was  despatched  on  another  horse. 

"  And  now,"  said  Sir  Ludwig  playfully,  "  let  us  to  lunch. 
Holy  hermit,  are  you  for  a  snack?  " 

The  hermit  could  not  say  nay  on  an  occasion  so  festive, 
and  the  three  gentles  seated  themselves  to  a  plenteous  re- 
past; for  which  the  remains  of  the  feast  of  yesterday 
offered,  it  need  not  be  said,  ample  means. 

^^They  will  be  home  by  dinner-time,"  said  the  exulting 
father.  "  Ludwig !  reverend  hermit !  we  will  carry  on  till 
then."  And  the  cup  passed  gaily  round,  and  the  laugh 
and  jest  circulated,  while  the  three  happy  friends  sat  con- 
fidently  awaiting  the  return  of  the  Margravine  and  her  son. 

But  alas!  said  we  not  rightly  at  the  commencement  of  a 
former  chapter,  that  betwixt  the  lip  and  the  raised  wine- 
cup  there  is  often  many  a  spill?  that  our  hopes  are  high, 
and  often,  too  often,  vain?  About  three  hours  after  the 
departure  of  the  first  messenger,  he  returned,  and  with  an 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


259 


exceedingly  long  face  knelt  down  and  presented  to  the 
Margrave  a  billet  to  the  following  effect : — 

"  Convent  of  Nonnenwerth  :  Friday  Afternoon. 
"  Sir, — I  have  submitted  too  long  to  your  ill-usage,  and 
am  disposed  to  bear  it  no  more.  I  will  no  longer  be  made 
the  butt  of  your  ribald  satire,  and  the  object  of  your  coarse 
abuse.  Last  week  you  threatened  me  with  your  cane !  On 
Tuesday  last  you  threw  a  wine-decanter  at  me,  which  hit 
the  butler,  it  is  true,  but  the  intention  was  evident.  This 
morning,  in  the  presence  of  all  the  servants,  you  called  me 
by  the  most  vile  abominable  name,  which  Heaven  forbid  I 
should  repeat!  You  dismissed  me  from  your  house  under 
a  false  accusation.  You  sent  me  to  this  odious  convent  to 
be  immured  for  life.  Be  it  so!  I  will  not  come  back, 
because,  forsooth,  you  relent.  Anything  is  better  than  a 
residence  with  a  wicked,  coarse,  violent,  intoxicated,  brutal 
monster  like  yourself.  I  remain  here  for  ever,  and  blush 
to  be  obliged  to  sign  myself 

Theodora  von  Godesberg. 

"P.a5. — I  hope  you  do  not  intend  to  keep  all  my  best 
gowns,  jewels,  and  wearmg-apparel ;  and  make  no  doubt 
you  dismissed  me  from  your  house  in  order  to  make  way 
for  some  vile  hussy,  whose  eyes  I  would  like  to  tear  out, 


260 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  SENTENCE. 

This  singular  document,  illustrative  of  the  passions  of 
women  at  all  times,  and  particularly  of  the  manners  of  the 
early  ages,  struck  dismay  into  the  heart  of  the  Margrave. 

"Are  her  Ladyship's  insinuations  correct?"  asked  the 
hermit  in  a  severe  tone.  "  To  correct  a  wife  with  a  cane 
is  a  venial,  I  may  say  a  justifiable  practice;  but  to  fling  a 
bottle  at  her  is  ruin,  both  to  the  liquor  and  to  her." 

"But  she  sent  a  carving-knife  at  me  first,"  said  the 
heart-broken  husband.  "  0  jealousy,  cursed  jealousy,  why, 
why  did  I  ever  listen  to  thy  green  and  yellow  tongue?  " 

"They  quarrelled;  but  they  loved  each  other  sincerely," 
whispered  Sir  Ludwig  to  the  hermit ;  who  began  to  deliver 
forthwith  a  lecture  upon  family  discord  and  marital  au- 
thority, which  would  have  sent  his  two  hearers  to  sleep, 
but  for  the  arrival  of  the  second  messenger,  whom  the 
Margrave  had  despatched  to  Cologne  for  his  son.  This 
herald  wore  a  still  longer  face  than  that  of  his  comrade 
who  preceded  him. 

"  Where  is  my  darling? "  roared  the  agonised  parent. 
"Have  ye  brought  him  with  ye?  " 

"N — no,"  said  the  man,  hesitating. 

"  I  will  flog  the  knave  soundly  when  he  comes,"  cried 
the  father,  vainly  endeavouring,  under  an  appearance  of 
sternness,  to  hide  his  inward  emotion  and  tenderness. 

"Please,  your  Highness,"  said  the  messenger,  making  a 
desperate  elfort,  "Count  Otto  is  not  at  the  convent." 

"  Know  ye,  knave,  where  he  is?  " 

The  swain  solemnly  said,  "I  do.  He  is  there,^^  He 
pointed  as  he  spake  to  the  broad  Ehine,  that  was  seen  from 
the  casement,  lighted  up  by  the  magnificent  hues  of  sunset. 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


261 


"  There  !  How  mean  ye  there  ? gasped  the  Margrave, 
wrought  to  a  pitch  of  nervous  fury. 

"  Alas !  my  good  lord,  when  he  was  in  the  boat  which 
was  to  conduct  him  to  the  convent,  he — he  jumped  sud- 
denly from  it,  and  is  dr-dr-owned.^' 

"  Carry  that  knave  out  and  hang  him !  said  the  Mar- 
grave, with  a  calmness  more  dreadful  than  any  outburst  of 
rage.  "Let  every  man  of  the  boat's  crew  be  blown  from 
the  mouth  of  the  cannon  on  the  tower — except  the  cox- 
swain, and  let  him  be  

What  was  to  be  done  with  the  coxswain,  no  one  knows; 
for  at  that  moment,  and  overcome  by  his  emotion,  the  Mar- 
grave sank  down  lifeless  on  the  floor. 


262 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  CHILDE  OF  GODESBERG. 

It  must  be  clear  to  the  dullest  intellect  (if  amongst  our 
readers  we  dare  venture  to  presume  that  a  dull  intellect 
should  be  found)  that  the  cause  of  the  Margrave's  fainting 
lit,  described  in  the  last  chapter,  was  a  groundless  appre- 
hension on  the  part  of  that  too  solicitous  and  credulous 
nobleman  regarding  the  fate  of  his  beloved  child.  No, 
young  Otto  was  not  drowned.  Was  ever  hero  of  romantic 
story  done  to  death  so  early  in  the  tale?  Young  Otto  was 
not  drowned.  Had  such  been  the  case,  the  Lord  Margrave 
would  infallibly  have  died  at  the  close  of  the  last  chapter ; 
and  a  few  gloomy  sentences  at  its  close  would  have  denoted 
how  the  lovely  Lady  Theodora  became  insane  in  the  con- 
vent, and  how  Sir  Ludwig  determined,  upon  the  demise  of 
the  old  hermit  (consequent  upon  the  shock  of  hearing  the 
news),  to  retire  to  the  vacant  hermitage,  and  assume  the 
robe,  the  beard,  the  mortifications  of  the  late  venerable  and 
solitary  ecclesiastic.  Otto  was  not  drowned,  and  all  those 
personages  of  our  history  are  consequently  alive  and  well. 

The  boat  containing  the  amazed  young  Count — for  he 
knew  not  the  cause  of  his  father's  anger,  and  hence  re- 
belled against  the  unjust  sentence  which  the  Margrave  had 
uttered — had  not  rowed  many  miles,  when  the  gallant  boy 
rallied  from  his  temporary  surprise  and  despondency,  and 
determined  not  to  be  a  slave  in  any  convent  of  any  order: 
determined  to  make  a  desperate  effort  for  escape.  At  a 
moment  when  the  men  were  pulling  hard  against  the  tide, 
and  Kuno,  the  coxswain,  was  looking  carefully  to  steer 
the  barge  between  some  dangerous  rocks  and  quicksands, 
which  are  frequently  met  with  in  the  majestic  though  dan- 
gerous river,  Otto  gave  a  sudden  spring  from  the  boat,  and 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


263 


with  one  single  flounce  was  in  the  boiling,  frothing,  swirl- 
ing eddy  of  the  stream. 

Fancy  the  agony  of  the  crew  at  the  disappearance  of 
their  young  lord !  All  loved  him ;  all  would  have  given 
their  lives  for  him;  but  as  they  did  not  know  how  to 
swim,  of  course  they  declined  to  make  any  useless  plunges 
in  search  of  him,  and  stood  on  their  oars  in  mute  wonder 
and  grief.  Once,  his  fair  head  and  golden  ringlets  were 
seen  to  arise  from  the  water ;  twicej  puffing  and  panting,  it 
appeared  for  an  instant  again ;  thrice,  it  rose  but  for  one 
single  moment :  it  was  the  last  chance,  and  it  sunk,  sunk, 
sunk.  Knowing  the  reception  they  would  meet  with  from 
their  liege  lord,  the  men  naturally  did  not  go  home  to 
Godesberg,  but,  putting  in  at  the  first  creek  on  the  opposite 
bank,  fled  into  the  Duke  of  Nassau^ s  territory;  where,  as 
they  have  little  to  do  with  our  tale,  we  will  leave  them. 

But  they  little  knew  how  expert  a  swimmer  was  young 
Otto.  He  had  disappeared,  it  is  true:  but  why?  because 
he  had  dived.  He  calculated  that  his  conductors  would 
consider  him  drowned,  and  the  desire  of  liberty  lending 
him  wings  (or  we  had  rather  S2ij  Ji7is,  in  this  instance),  the 
gallant  boy  swam  on  beneath  the  water,  never  lifting  his 
head  for  a  single  moment  between  Godesberg  and  Cologne 
— the  distance  being  twenty-five  or  thirty  miles. 

Escaping  from  observation,  he  landed  on  the  Deutz  side 

of  the  river,  repaired  to  a  comfortable  and  quiet  hostel 

there,  saying  he  had  had  an  accident  from  a  boat,  and 

thus  accounting  for  the  moisture  of  his  habiliments,  and 

while  these  were  drying  before  a  fire  in  his  chamber,  went 

snugly  to  bed,  where  he  mused,  not  without  amaze,  on  the 

strange  events  of  the  day.    "This  morning,"  thought  he, 

"  a  noble,  and  heir  to  a  princely  estate — this  evening  an 

outcast,  with  but  a  few  bank-notes  which  my  mamma 

luckily  gave  me  on  my  birthday.    What  a  strange  entry 

into  life  is  this  for  a  young  man  of  my  family!    Well,  I 

have  courage  and  resolution :  my  first  attempt  in  life  has 

been  a  gallant  and  successful  one ;  other  dangers  will  be 

conquered  by  similar  bravery."    And  recommending  him- 
12 — Vol.  19 


264  A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


self,  his  unhappy  mother,  and  his  mistaken  father  to  the 
care  of  their  patron  saint.  Saint  Buffo,  the  gallant-hearted 
boy  fell  presently  into  such  a  sleep,  as  only  the  young,  the 
healthy,  the  innocent,  and  the  extremely  fatigued,  can 
enjoy. 

The  fatigues  of  the  day  (and  very  few  men  but  would 
be  fatigued  after  swimming  well-nigh  thirty  miles  under 
water)  caused  young  Otto  to  sleep  so  profoundly,  that  he 
did  not  remark  how,  after  Friday's  sunset,  as  a  natural 
consequence,  Saturday's  Phoebus  illumined  the  world,  ay, 
and  sunk  at  his  appointed  hour.  The  serving-maidens  of 
the  hostel,  peeping  in,  marked  him  sleeping,' and  blessing 
him  for  a  pretty  youth,  tripped  lightly  from  the  chamber ; 
the  boots  tried  haply  twice  or  thrice  to  call  him  (as  boots 
will  fain),  but  the  lovely  boy,  giving  another  snore,  turned 
on  his  side,  and  was  quite  unconscious  of  the  interruption. 
In  a  word,  the  youth  slept  for  six-and-thirty  hours  at  an 
elongation ;  and  the  Sunday  sun  was  shining,  and  the  bells 
of  the  hundred  churches  of  Cologne  were  clinking  and  toll- 
ing in  pious  festivity,  and  the  burghers  and  burgheresses 
of  the  town  were  trooping  to  vespers  and  morning  service 
when  Otto  awoke. 

As  he  donned  his  clothes  of  the  richest  Genoa  velvet, 
the  astonished  boy  could  not  at  first  account  for  his  diflBi- 
culty  in  putting  them  on.  "Marry,"  said  he,  "these 
breeches  that  my  blessed  mother''  (tears  filled  his  fine 
eyes  as  he  thought  of  her) — "  that  my  blessed  mother  had 
made  long  on  purpose,  are  now  ten  inches  too  short  for  me. 
Whir-r-r !  my  coat  cracks  i'  the  back,  as  in  vain  I  try  to 
buckle  it  round  me;  and  the  sleeves  reach  no  farther  than 
my  elbows!  What  is  this  mystery?  Am  I  grown  fat  and 
tall  in  a  single  night?    Ah!  ah!  ah!  ah!  I  have  it." 

The  young  and  good-humoured  Childe  laughed  merrily. 
He  bethought  him  of  the  reason  of  his  mistake :  his  gar- 
ments had  shrunk  from  being  five-and-twenty  miles  under 
water. 

But  one  remedy  presented  itself  to  his  mind ;  and  that 
we  need  not  say  was  to  purchase  new  ones.    Inquiring  the 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  EHINE. 


265 


way  to  the  most  genteel  ready-made  clothes^  establishment 
in  the  city  of  Cologne,  and  finding  it  was  kept  in  the  Min- 
oriten  Strasse,  by  an  ancestor  of  the  celebrated  Moses  of 
London,  the  noble  Childe  hied  him  towards  the  emporium ; 
but  you  may  be  sure  did  not  neglect  to  perform  his  relig- 
ious duties  by  the  way.  Entering  the  cathedral,  he  made 
straight  for  the  shrine  of  St.  Buffo,  and,  hiding  himself 
behind  a  pillar  there  (fearing  he  might  be  recognised  by 
the  Archbishop,  or  any  of  his  father's  numerous  friends  in 
Cologne),  he  proceeded  with  his  devotions,  as  was  the  prac- 
tice of  the  young  nobles  of  the  age. 

But  though  exceedingly  intent  upon  the  service,  yet  his 
eye  could  not  refrain  from  wandering  a  little  round  about 
him,  and  he  remarked  with  surprise  that  the  whole  church 
was  filled  with  archers ;  and  he  remembered,  too,  that  he 
had  seen  in  the  streets  numerous  other  bands  of  men  sim- 
ilarly attired  in  green.  On  asking  at  the  cathedral  porch 
the  cause  of  this  assemblage,  one  of  the  green  ones  said 
(in  a  jape),  "Marry,  youngster,  you  must  be  green,  not  to 
know  that  we  are  all  bound  to  the  castle  of  his  Grace  Duke 
Adolf  of  Cleves,  who  gives  an  archery  meeting  once  a  year, 
and  prizes  for  which  we  toxophilites  muster  strong." 

Otto,  whose  course  hitherto  had  been  undetermined,  now 
immediately  settled  what  to  do.  He  straightway  repaired 
to  the  ready-made  emporium  of  Herr  Moses,  and  bidding 
that  gentleman  furnish  him  with  an  archer's  complete 
dress,  Moses  speedily  selected  a  suit  from  his  vast  stock, 
which  fitted  the  youth  to  a  and  we  need  not  say  was  sold 
at  an  exceedingly  moderate  price.  So  attired  (and  bidding 
Herr  Moses  a  cordial  farewell),  young  Otto  was  a  gor- 
geous, a  noble,  a  soul-inspiring  boy  to  gaze  on.  A  coat  and 
breeches  of  the  most  brilliant  pea-green,  ornamented  with 
a  profusion  of  brass  buttons,  and  fitting  him  with  exquisite 
tightness,  showed  off  a  figure  unrivalled  for  slim  sym- 
metry. His  feet  were  covered  with  peaked  buskins  of  buff 
leather,  and  a  belt  round  his  slender  waist,  of  the  same 
material,  held  his  knife,  his  tobacco-pipe  and  pouch,  and 
his  long  shining  dirk;  which,  though  the  adventurous 


266 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


youth  had  as  yet  only  employed  it  to  fashion  wicket-bails, 
or  to  cut  bread-and-cheese,  he  was  now  quite  ready  to  use 
against  the  enemy.  His  personal  attractions  were  en- 
hanced by  a  neat  white  hat,  flung  carelessly  and  fearlessly 
on  one  side  of  his  open  smiling  countenance ;  and  his  lovely 
hair,  curling  in  ten  thousand  yellow  ringlets,  fell  over  his 
shoulder  like  golden  epaulettes,  and  down  his  back  as  far 
as  the  waist-buttons  of  his  coat.  I  warrant  me,  many  a 
lovely  Colnerinn  looked  after  the  handsome  Childe  with 
anxiety,  and  dreamed  that  night  of  Cupid  under  the  guise 
of  "a  bonny  boy  in  green. 

So  accoutred,  the  youth's  next  thought  was,  that  he 
must  supply  himself  with  a  bow.  This  he  speedily  pur- 
chased at  the  most  fashionable  bowyer's,  and  of  the  best 
material  and  make.  It  was  of  ivory,  trimmed  with  pink 
ribbon,  and  the  cord  of  silk.  An  elegant  quiver,  beauti- 
fully painted  and  embroidered,  was  slung  across  his  back 
with  a  dozen  of  the  finest  arrows,  tipped  with  steel  of 
Damascus,  formed  of  the  branches  of  the  famous  Upas  tree 
of  Java,  and  feathered  with  the  wings  of  the  ortolan. 
These  purchases  being  completed  (together  with  that  of  a 
knapsack,  dressing-case,  change,  etc.),  our  young  adven- 
turer asked  where  was  the  hostel  at  which  the  archers  were 
wont  to  assemble?  and  being  informed  that  it  was  at  the 
sign  of  the  "Golden  Stag,"  hied  him  to  that  house  of  en- 
tertainment, where,  by  calling  for  quantities  of  liquor  and 
beer,  he  speedily  made  the  acquaintance  and  acquired  the 
goodwill  of  a  company  of  his  future  comrades  who  hap- 
•  pened  to  be  sitting  in  the  coffee-room. 

After  they  had  eaten  and  drunken  for  all.  Otto  said, 
addressing  them,  "  When  go  ye  forth,  gentles?  I  am  a 
stranger  here,  bound  as  you  to  the  archery  meeting  of  Duke 
Adolf.  An  ye  will  admit  a  youth  into  your  company, 
Hwill  gladden  me  upon  my  lonely  way.'' 

The  archers  replied,  "  You  seem  so  young  and  jolly,  and 
you  spend  your  gold  so  very  like  a  gentleman,  that  we'll 
receive  you  in  our  band  with  pleasure.  Be  ready,  for  we 
start  at  half -past  two!"    At  that  hour  accordingly  the 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE.  267 


whole  joyous  company  prepared  to  move,  and  Otto  not  a 
little  increased  his  popularity  among  them  by  stepping  out 
and  having  a  conference  with  the  landlord,  which  caused 
the  latter  to  come  into  the  room  where  the  archers  were 
assembled  previous  to  departure,  and  to  say,  "  Gentlemen, 
the  bill  is  settled! — words  never  ungrateful  to  an  archer 
yet:  no,  marry,  nor  to  a  man  of  any  other  calling  that  I 
wot  of. 

They  marched  joyously  for  several  leagues,  singing  and 
joking,  and  telling  of  a  thousand  feats  of  love  and  chase 
and  war.  While  thus  engaged,  some  one  remarked  to 
Otto,  that  he  was  not  dressed  in  the  regular  uniform,  hav- 
ing no  feathers  in  his  hat. 

dare  say  I  will  find  a  feather,"  said  the  lad,  smiling. 

Then  another  gibed  because  his  bow  was  new. 

"  See  that  you  can  use  your  old  one  as  well.  Master 
Wolfgang,"  said  the  undisturbed  youth.  His  answers,  his 
bearing,  his  generosity,  his  beauty,  and  his  wit,  inspired 
all  his  new  toxophilite  friends  with  interest  and  curiosity, 
and  they  longed  to  see  whether  his  skill  with  the  bow 
corresponded  with  their  secret  sympathies  for  him. 

An  occasion  for  manifesting  this  skill  did  not  fail  to 
present  itself  soon — as  indeed  it  seldom  does  to  such  a 
hero  of  romance  as  young  Otto  was.  Fate  seems  to  watch 
over  such :  events  occur  to  them  just  in  the  nick  of  time ; 
they  rescue  virgins  just  as  ogres  are  on  the  point  of  devour- 
ing them ;  they  manage  to  be  present  at  Court  and  inter- 
esting ceremonies,  and  to  see  the  most  interesting  people  at 
the  most  interesting  moment ;  directly  an  adventure  is  nec- 
essary for  them,  that  adventure  occurs :  and  I,  for  my 
part,  have  often  wondered  with  delight  (and  never  could 
penetrate  the  mystery  of  the  subject)  at  the  way  in  which 
that  humblest  of  romance  heroes,  Signor  Clown,  when  he 
wants  anything  in  the  Pantomime,  straightway  finds  it  to 
his  hand.  How  is  it  that — suppose  he  wishes  to  dress 
himself  up  like  a  woman,  for  instance,  that  minute  a  coal- 
heaver  walks  in  with  a  shovel-hat  that  answers  for  a  bon- 
net: at  the  very- next  instant  a  butcher's  lad  passing  with 


268 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


a  string  of  sausages  and  a  bundle  of  bladders  unconsciously 
helps  Master  Clown  to  a  necklace  and  a  tournure^  and  so 
on  through  the  whole  toilet?  Depend  upon  it  there  is 
something  we  do  not  wot  of  in  that  mysterious  overcoming 
of  circumstances  by  great  individuals :  that  apt  and  won- 
drous conjuncture  of  the  Hour  and  the  Man ;  and  so,  for 
my  part,  when  I  heard  the  above  remark  of  one  of  the 
archers,  that  Otto  had  never  a  feather  in  his  bonnet,  I  felt 
sure  that  a  heron  would  spring  up  in  the  next  sentence  to 
supply  him  Avith  an  aigrette. 

And  such  indeed  was  the  fact :  rising  out  of  a  morass  by 
which  the  archers  were  passing,  a  gallant  heron,  arching 
his  neck,  swelling  his  crest,  placing  his  legs  behind  him, 
and  his  beak  and  red  eyes  against  the  wind,  rose  slowly, 
and  offered  the  fairest  mark  in  the  world. 

"Shoot,  Otto,''  said  one  of  the  archers.  "You  would 
not  shoot  just  now  at  a  crow  because  it  was  a  foul  bird,  nor 
at  a  hawk  because  it  was  a  noble  bird ;  bring  us  down  yon 
heron:  it  flies  slowly.'' 

But  Otto  was  busy  that  moment  tying  his  shoe-string, 
and  Eudolf ,  the  third  best  of  the  archers,  shot  at  the  bird 
and  missed  it. 

"  Shoot,  Otto,"  said  Wolfgang,  a  youth  who  had  taken 
a  liking  to  the  young  archer:  "the  bird  is  getting  fur- 
ther and  further." 

But  Otto  was  busy  that  moment  whittling  a  willow-twig 
he  had  just  cut.  Max,  the  second  best  archer,  shot  and 
missed. 

"Then,"  said  Wolfgang,  "I  must  try  myself:  a  plague 
on  you,  young  springald,  you  have  lost  a  noble  chance ! " 

Wolfgang  prepared  himself  with  all  his  care,  and  shot 
at  the  bird.  "It  is  out  of  distance,"  said  he,  "and  a  mur- 
rain on  the  bird !  " 

Otto,  who  by  this  time  had  done  whittling  his  willow- 
stick  (having  carved  a  capital  caricature  of  Wolfgang  upon 
it),  flung  the  twig  down  and  said  carelessly,  "Out  of  dis- 
tance! Pshaw!  We  have  two  minutes  yet,"  and  fell  to 
asking  riddles  and  cutting  jokes;  to  which  none  of  the 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


209 


archers  listened,  as  they  were  all  engaged,  their  noses  in 
air,  watching  the  retreating  bird. 

Where  shall  I  hit  him?  "  said  Otto. 

"Go  to,"  said  Eudolf,  "thou  canst  see  no  limb  of  him: 
he  is  no  bigger  than  a  flea." 

"  Here  goes  for  his  right  eye  I  "  said  Otto ;  and  stepping 
forward  in  the  English  manner  (which  his  godfather  hav- 
ing learnt  in  Palestine,  had  taught  him),  he  brought  his 
bowstring  to  his  ear,  took  a  good  aim,  allowing  for  the 
wind,  and  calculating  the  parabola  to  a  nicety.  Whizz! 
his  arrow  went  off. 

He  took  up  the  willow-twig  again  and  began  carving  a 
head  of  Eudolf  at  the  other  end,  chatting  and  laughing, 
and  singing  a  ballad  the  while. 

The  archers,  after  standing  a  long  time  looking  skywards 
with  their  noses  in  the  air,  at  last  brought  them  down  from 
the  perpendicular  to  the  horizontal  position,  and  said, 
"Pooh,  this  lad  is  a  humbug!  The  arrow's  lost;  let's  go!  " 

"  Heads  I "  cried  Otto,  laughing.  A  speck  was  seen 
rapidly  descending  from  the  heavens ;  it  grew  to  be  as  big 
as  a  crown-piece,  then  as  a  partridge,  then  as  a  tea-kettle, 
and  flop !  down  fell  a  magnificent  heron  to  the  ground, 
flooring  poor  Max  in  its  fall. 

"Take  the  arrow  out  of  his  eye,  Wolfgang,"  said  Otto, 
without  looking  at  the  bird :  "  wipe  it  and  put  in  back  into 
my  quiver." 

The  arrow  indeed  was  there,  having  penetrated  right 
through  the  pupil. 

"Are  you  in  league  with  Der  Freischtitz?  "  said  Eudolf, 
quite  amazed 

Otto  laughing  whistled  the  "Huntsman's  Chorus,"  and 
said,  "No,  my  friend.  It  was  a  lucky  shot:  only  a  lucky 
shot.  I  was  taught  shooting,  look  you,  in  the  fashion  of 
merry  England,  where  the  archers  are  archers  indeed." 

And  so  he  cut  off  the  heron's  wing  for  a  plume  for  his 
hat ;  and  the  archers  walked  on,  much  amazed,  and  say- 
ing, "  What  a  wonderful  country  that  merry  England  must 
be!" 


270 


A  LEGEND  OP  THE  EHINE. 


Far  from  feeling  any  envy  at  their  comrade's  success, 
the  jolly  archers  recognised  his  superiority  with  pleasure ; 
and  Wolfgang  and  Eudolf  especially  held  out  their  hands 
to  the  younker,  and  besought  the  honour  of  his  friendship. 
They  continued  their  walk  all  day,  and  when  night  fell 
made  choice  of  a  good  hostel,  you  may  be  sure,  where  over 
beer,  punch,  champagne,  and  every  luxury,  they  drank  to 
the  health  of  the  Duke  of  Cleves,  and  ind.eed  each  other's 
healths  all  round.  Next  day  they  resumed  their  march, 
and  continued  it  without  interruption,  except  to  take  in  a 
supply  of  victuals  here  and  there  (and  it  was  found  on 
these  occasions  that  Otto,  young  as  he  was,  could  eat  four 
times  as  much  as  the  oldest  archer  present,  and  drink  to 
correspond) ;  and  these  continued  refreshments  having 
given  them  more  than  ordinary  strength,  they  determined 
on  making  rather  a  long  march  of  it,  and  did  not  halt  till 
after  nightfall  at  the  gates  of  the  little  town  of  Windeck. 

What  was  to  be  done?  the  town  gates  were  shut.  ^^Is 
there  no  hostel,  no  castle  where  we  can  sleep?  "  asked  Otto 
of  the  sentinel  at  the  gate.  "  I  am  so  hungry  that  in  lack 
of  better  food  I  think  I  could  eat  my  grandmamma." 

The  sentinel  laughed  at  this  hyperbolical  expression  of 
hunger,  and  said,  "  You  had  best  go  sleep  at  the  Castle  of 
Windeck  yonder ; ''  adding,  with  a  peculiarly  knowing  look, 
"Nobody  will  disturb  you  there." 

At  that  moment  the  moon  broke  out  from  a  cloud,  and 
showed  on  a  hill  hard  by  a  castle  indeed — but  the  skeleton 
of  a  castle.  The  roof  was  gone,  the  windows  were  dis- 
mantled, the  towers  were  tumbling,  and  the  cold  moonlight 
pierced  it  through  and  through.  One  end  of  the  building 
was,  however,  still  covered  in,  and  stood  looking  still  more 
frowning,  vast,  and  gloomy,  even  than  the  other  part  of 
the  edifice. 

"  There  is  a  lodging,  certainly,"  said  Otto  to  the  sentinel, 
who  pointed  towards  the  castle  with  his  bartizan ;  "  but  tell 
me,  good  fellow,  what  are  we  to  do  for  a  supper?  " 

"  Oh,  the  castellan  of  Windeck  will  entertain  you,"  said 
the  man-at-arms  with  a  grin,  and  marched  up  the  embra- 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


271 


sure ;  the  while  the  archers,  taking  counsel  among  them- 
selves, debated  whether  or  not  they  should  take  up  their 
quarters  in  the  gloomy  and  deserted  edifice. 

"  We  shall  get  nothing  but  an  owl  for  supper  there,"  said 
young  Otto.  "  Marry,  lads,  let  us  storm  the  town ;  we  are 
thirty  gallant  fellows,  and  I  have  heard  the  garrison  is  not 
more  than  three  hundred.'^  But  the  rest  of  the  party 
thought  such  a  way  of  getting  supper  was  not  a  very  cheap 
one,  and,  grovelling  knaves,  preferred  rather  to  sleep  igno- 
bly and  without  victuals,  than  dare  the  assault  with  Otto, 
and  die,  or  conquer  something  comfortable. 

One  and  all  then  made  their  way  towards  the  castle. 
They  entered  its  vast  and  silent  halls,  frightening  the  owls 
and  bats  that  fled  before  them  with  hideous  hootings  and 
flappings  of  wings,  and  passing  by  a  multiplicity  of  mouldy 
stairs,  dank  reeking  roofs,  and  rickety  corridors,  at  last 
came  to  an  apartment  which,  dismal  and  dismantled  as  it 
was,  appeared  to  be  in  rather  better  condition  than  the 
neighbouring  chambers,  and  they  therefore  selected  it  as 
their  place  of  rest  for  the  night.  They  then  tossed  up 
which  should  mount  guard.  The  first  two  hours  of  watch 
fell  to  Otto,  who  was  to  be  succeeded  by  his  young  though 
humble  friend  Wolfgang ;  and,  accordingly,  the  Childe  of 
Godesberg,  drawing  his  dirk,  began  to  pace  upon  his  weary 
round ;  while  his  comrades,  by  various  gradations  of  snor- 
ing, told  how  profoundly  they  slept,  spite  of  their  lack  of 
supper. 

'Tis  needless  to  say  what  were  the  thoughts  of  the  noble 
Childe  as  he  performed  his  two  hours'  watch ;  what  gush- 
ing memories  poured  into  his  full  soul ;  what  "  sweet  and 
bitter  "  recollections  of  home  inspired  his  throbbing  heart ; 
and  what  manly  aspirations  after  fame  buoyed  him  up. 

Youth  is  ever  confident,"  says  the  bard.  Happy,  happy 
season !  The  moonlit  hours  passed  by  on  silver  wings,  the 
twinkling  stars  looked  friendly  down  upon  him.  Confid- 
ing in  their  youthful  sentinel,  sound  slept  the  valorous 
toxophilites,  as  up  and  down,  and  there  and  back  again, 
marched  on  the  iipble  Childe.    At  length  his  repeater  told 


272 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


him,  much  to  his  satisfaction,  that  it  was  half -past  eleven, 
the  hour  when  his  watch  was  to  cease ;  and  so,  giving  a 
playful  kick  to  the  slumbering  Wolfgang,  that  good-hu- 
moured fellow  sprung  up  from  his  lair,  and,  drawing  his 
sword,  proceeded  to  relieve  Otto. 

The  latter  laid  him  down  for  warmth's  sake  on  the  very- 
spot  which  his  comrade  had  left,  and  for  some  time  could 
not  sleep.  Eealities  and  visions  then  began  to  mingle  in 
his  mind,  till  he  scarce  knew  which  was  which.  He  dozed 
for  a  minute ;  then  he  woke  with  a  start ;  then  he  went  off 
again;  then  woke  up  again.  In  one  of  these  half-sleeping 
moments  he  thought  he  saw  a  figure,  as  of  a  woman  in 
white,  gliding  into  the  room,  and  beckoning  Wolfgang 
from  it.  He  looked  again.  Wolfgang  was  gone.  At  that 
moment  twelve  o'clock  clanged  from  the  town,  and  Otto 
started  up. 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE.  273 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  LADY  OF  WINDECK. 

As  the  bell  with  iron  tongue  called  midnight,  Wolfgang 
the  Archer,  pacing  on  his  watch,  beheld  before  him  a  pale 
female  figure.  He  did  not  know  whence  she  came :  but 
there  suddenly  she  stood  close  to  him.  Her  blue,  clear, 
glassy  eyes  were  fixed  upon  him.  Her  form  was  of  fault- 
less beauty;  her  face  pale  as  the  marble  of  the  fairy  statue, 
ere  yet  the  sculptor's  love  had  given  it  life.  A  smile 
played  upon  her  features,  but  it  was  no  warmer  than  the 
reflection  of  a  moonbeam  on  a  lake ;  and  yet  it  was  won- 
drous beautiful.  A  fascination  stole  over  the  senses  of 
young  Wolfgang.  He  stared  at  the  lovely  apparition  with 
fixed  eyes  and  distended  jaws.  She  looked  at  him  with  in- 
effable archness.  She  lifted  one  beautifully  rounded  ala- 
baster arm,  and  made  a  sign  as  if  to  beckon  him  towards 
her.  Did  Wolfgang — the  young  and  lusty  Wolfgang — fol- 
low? Ask  the  iron  whether  it  follows  the  magnet? — ask 
the  pointer  whether  it  pursues  the  partridge  through  the 
stubble? — ask  the  youth  whether  the  lollypop-shop  does 
not  attract  him?  Wolfgang  did  follow.  An  antique  door 
opened,  as  if  by  magic.  There  was  no  light,  and  yet  they 
saw  quite  plain ;  they  passed  through  the  innumerable  an- 
cient chambers,  and  yet  they  did  not  wake  any  of  the  owls 
and  bats  roosting  there.  We  know  not  through  how  many 
apartments  the  young  couple  passed;  but  at  last  they  came 
to  one  where  a  feast  was  prepared ;  and  on  an  antique  table, 
covered  with  massive  silver,  covers  were  laid  for  two. 
The  lady  took  her  place  at  one  end  of  the  table,  and  with 
her  sweetest  nod  beckoned  Wolfgang  to  the  other  seat. 
He  took  it.  The  table  was  small,  and  their  knees  met. 
He  felt  as  cold  in  his  legs  as  if  he  were  kneeling  against 
an  ice- well. 


274 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


"Gallant  archer,"  said  she,  "you  must  be  hungry  after 
your  day's  march.  What  supper  will  you  have?  Shall  it 
be  a  delicat.e  lobster  salad?  or  a  dish  of  elegant  tripe  and 
onions?  or  a  slice  of  boar's-head  and  truffles?  or  a  Welsh 
rabbit  a  la  cave  an  cidre  ?  or  a  beefsteak  and  shallot?  or 
a  couple  of  rognons  a  la  hrochette  ?  Speak,  brave  bowyer : 
you  have  but  to  order." 

As  there  was  nothing  on  the  table  but  a  covered  silver 
dish,  Wolfgang  thought  that  the  lady  who  proposed  such 
a  multiplicity  of  delicacies  to  him  was  only  laughing  at 
him ;  so  he  determined  to  try  her  with  something  extremely 
rare. 

"Fair  princess,"  he  said,  "I  should  like  very  much  a 
pork  chop  and  some  mashed  potatoes." 

She  lifted  the  cover :  there  was  such  a  pork  chop  as  Simp- 
son never  served,  with  a  dish  of  mashed  potatoes  that 
would  have  formed  at  least  six  portions  in  our  degenerate 
days  in  Eupert  Street. 

When  he  had  helped  himself  to  these  delicacies,  the  lady 
put  the  cover  on  the  dish  again,  and  watched  him  eating 
with  interest.  He  was  for  some  time  too  much  occupied 
with  his  own  food  to  remark  that  his  companion  did  not 
eat  a  morsel ;  but  big  as  it  was,  his  chop  was  soon  gone ; 
the  shining  silver  of  his  plate  was  scraped  quite  clean  with 
his  knife,  and  heaving  a  great  sigh,  he  confessed  a  humble 
desire  for  something  to  drink. 

"  Call  for  what  you  like,  sweet  sir,"  said  the  lady,  lift- 
ing up  a  silver  filigree  bottle,  with  an  india-rubber  cork, 
ornamented  with  gold. 

"Then,"  said  Master  Wolfgang — for  the  fellow's  tastes 
were,  in  sooth,  very  humble — "I  call  for  half-and-half." 
According  to  his  wish,  a  pint  of  that  delicious  beverage 
was  poured  from  the  bottle,  foaming,  into  his  beaker. 

Having  emptied  this  at  a  draught,  and  declared  that  on 
his  conscience  it  was  the  best  tap  he  ever  knew  in  his  life, 
the  young  man  felt  his  appetite  renewed ;  and  it  is  impos- 
sible to  say  how  many  different  dishes  he  called  for.  Only 
enchantment,  he  was  afterwards  heard  to  declare  (though 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


275 


none  of  his  friends  believed  him) ,  could  have  given  him 
the  appetite  he  possessed  on  that  extraordinary  night.  He 
called  for  another  pork  chop  and  potatoes,  then  for  pickled 
salmon ;  then  he  thought  he  would  try  a  devilled  turkey 
wing.    "I  adore  the  devil,"  said  he. 

"  So  do  I/^  said  the  pale  lady,  with  unwonted  anima- 
tion ;  and  the  dish  was  served  straightway.  It  was  suc- 
ceeded by  black-puddings,  tripe,  toasted  cheese,  and — what 
was  most  remarkable — every  one  of  the  dishes  which  he 
desired  came  from  under  the  same  silver  cover :  which  cir- 
cumstance, when  he  had  partaken  of  about  fourteen  differ- 
ent articles,  he  began  to  find  rather  mysterious. 

^^Oh,"  said  the  pale  lady,  with  a  smile,  "the  mystery  is 
easily  accounted  for :  the  servants  hear  you,  and  the  kitchen 
is  heloiv.^^  But  this  did  not  account  for  the  manner  in 
which  more  half-and-half,  bitter  ale,  punch  (both  gin  and 
Tum),  and  even  oil  and  vinegar,  which  he  took  with  cucum- 
ber to  his  salmon,  came  out  of  the  self-same  bottle  from 
which  the  lady  had  first  poured  out  his  pint  of  half-and-half. 

"  There  are  more  things  in  heaven  and  earth,  Voracio,'^ 
said  his  arch  entertainer,  when  he  put  this  question  to  her, 
"  than  are  dreamt  of  in  your  philosophy  :  and,  sooth  to 
say,  the  archer  was  by  this  time  in  such  a  state,  that  he 
did  not  find  anything  wonderful  more. 

"Are  you  happy,  dear  youth?  said  the  lady,  as,  after 
his  collation,  he  sank  back  in  his  chair. 

"Ohj  miss,  ain't  I! was  his  interrogative  and  yet  affir- 
mative reply. 

"  Should  you  like  such  a  supper  every  night,  Wolfgang? 
continued  the  pale  one. 

"  Why,  no,'^  said  he ;  "  no,  not  exactly ;  not  every  night : 
som,e  nights  I  should  like  oysters." 

"Dear  youth,"  said  she,  "be  but  mine,  and  you  may 
have  them  all  the  year  round ! "  The  unhappy  boy  was 
too  far  gone  to  suspect  anything,  otherwise  this  extraordi- 
nary speech  would  have  told  him  that  he  was  in  suspicious 
company.  A  person  who  can  offer  oysters  all  the  year 
round  can  live  to  no  ^ood  purpose. 


276 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


Shall  I  sing  you  a  song,  dear  archer  ?  ^'  said  the 
lady. 

"  Sweet  love ! "  said  he,  now  much  excited,  "  strike  up 
and  I  will  join  the  chorus." 

She  took  down  her  mandolin,  and  commenced  a  ditty. 
'Twas  a  sweet  and  wild  one.  It  told  how  a  lady  of  high 
lineage  cast  her  eyes  on  a  peasant  page ;  it  told  how  nought 
could  her  love  assuage,  her  suitor's  wealth  and  her  father's 
rage !  it  told  how  the  youth  did  his  foes  engage ;  and  at 
length  they  went  off  in  the  Gretna  stage,  the  higli-born 
dame  and  the  peasant  page.  Wolfgang  beat  time,  waggled 
his  head,  sung  woefully  out  of  tune  as  the  song  proceeded ; 
and  if  he  had  not  been  too  intoxicated  with  love  and  other 
excitement,  he  would  have  remarked  how  the  pictures  on 
the  wall,  as  the  lady  sang,  began  to  waggle  their  heads 
too,  and  nod  and  grin  to  the  music.  The  song  ended.  "  I 
am  the  lady  of  high  lineage :  Archer,  will  you  be  the  peas- 
ant page?'' 

"I'll  follow  you  to  the  devil! "  said  Wolfgang. 

"Come,"  replied  the  lady,  glaring  wildly  on  him,  "come 
to  the  chapel;  we'll  be  married  this  minute!  " 

She  held  out  her  hand — Wolfgang  took  it.  It  was  cold, 
damp, — deadly  cold;  and  on  they  went  to  the  chapel. 

As  they  passed  out,  the  two  pictures  over  the  wall,  of  a 
gentleman  and  lady,  tripped  lightly  out  of  their  frames, 
skipped  noiselessly  down  to  the  ground,  and  making  the 
retreating  couple  a  profound  curtsey  and  bow,  took  the 
places  which  they  had  left  at  the  table. 

Meanwhile  the  young  couple  passed  on  towards  the 
chapel,  threading  innumerable  passages,  and  passing 
through  chambers  of  great  extent.  As  they  came  along, 
all  the  portraits  on  the  wall  stepped  out  of  their  frames  to 
follow  them.  One  ancestor,  of  whom  there  was  only  a 
bust,  frowned  in  the  greatest  rage,  because,  having  no  legs, 
his  pedestal  would  not  move ;  and  several  stickmg-pl aster 
profiles  of  the  former  Lords  of  Windeck  looked  quite  black 
at  being,  for  similar  reasons,  compelled  to  keep  their  places. 
However,  there  was  a  goodly  procession  formed  behind 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


277 


Wolfgang  and  his  bride ;  and  by  the  time  they  reached  the 
church,  they  had  near  a  hundred  followers. 

The  church  was  splendidly  illuminated ;  the  old  banners 
of  the  old  knights  glittered  as  they  do  at  Drury  Lane. 
The  organ  set  up  of  itself  to  play  the  "Bridesmaids' 
Chorus.''  The  choir-chairs  were  filled  with  people  in  black. 

"Come,  love,"  said  the  pale  lady. 

"I  don't  see  the  parson/'  exclaimed  Wolfgang,  spite  of 
himself  rather  alarmed. 

"Oh,  the  parson!  that's  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world! 
I  say,  bishop !  "  said  the  lady,  stooping  down. 

Stooping  down — and  to  what?  Why,  upon  my  word 
and  honour,  to  a  great  brass  plate  on  the  floor,  over  which 
they  were  passing,  and  on  which  was  engraven  the  figure  of 
a  bishop — and  a  very  ugly  bishop,  too — with  crosier  and 
mitre,  and  lifted  finger,  on  which  sparkled  the  episcopal 
ring.  "Do,  my  dear  lord,  come  and  marry  us,"  said  the 
lady,  with  a  levity  which  shocked  the  feelings  of  her  bride- 
groom. 

The  bishop  got  up ;  and  directly  he  rose,  a  dean,  who 
was  sleeping  under  a  large  slate  near  him,  came  bowing 
and  cringing  up  to  him ;  while  a  canon  of  the  cathedral 
(whose  name  was  Schidnischmidt)  began  grinning  and  mak- 
ing fun  at  the  pair.    The  ceremony  was  begun,  and 

As  the  clock  struck  twelve,  young  Otto  bounded  up,  and 
remarked  the  absence  of  his  companion  Wolfgang.  The 
idea  he  had  had,  that  his  friend  disappeared  in  company 
with  a  white-robed  female,  struck  him  more  and  more.  "  I 
will  follow  them,"  said  he;  and,  calling  to  the  next  on  the 
watch  (old  Snozo,  who  was  right  unwilling  to  forego  his 
sleep),  he  rushed  away  by  the  door  through  which  he  had 
seen  Wolfgang  and  his  temptress  take  their  way. 

That  he  did  not  find  them  was  not  his  fault.  The  castle 
was  vast,  the  chamber  dark.  There  were  a  thousand  doors, 
and  what  wonder  that,  after  he  had  once  lost  sight  of  them, 
the  intrepid  Childe  should  not  be  able  to  follow  in  their 
steps?    As  might  be_  expected,  he  took  the  wrong  door, 


278 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


and  wandered  for  at  least  three  hours  about  the  dark  enor- 
mous solitary  castle,  calling  out  Wolfgang's  name  to  the 
careless  and  indifferent  echoes,  knocking  his  young  shins 
against  the  ruins  scattered  in  the  darkness,  but  still  with 
a  spirit  entirely  undaunted,  and  a  firm  resolution  to  aid  his 
absent  comrade.  Brave  Otto!  thy  exertions  were  rewarded 
at  last ! 

For  he  lighted  at  length  upon  the  very  apartment  where 
Wolfgang  had  partaken  of  supper,  and  where  the  old  couple 
who  had  been  in  the  picture-frames,  and  turned  out  to  be 
the  lady's  father  and  mother,  were  now  sitting  at  the  table. 

"  Well,  Bertha  has  got  a  husband  at  last,"  said  the  lady. 

"  After  waiting  four  hundred  and  fifty-three  years  for 
one,  it  was  quite  time,"  said  the  gentleman.  (He  was 
dressed  in  powder  and  a  pigtail,  quite  in  the  old  fashion.) 

*^The  husband  is  no  great  things,"  continued  the  lady, 
taking  snuff.  ^^A  low  fellow,  my  dear;  a  butcher's  son,  I 
believe.  Did  you  see  how  the  wretch  ate  at  supper?  To 
think  my  daughter  should  have  to  marry  an  archer !  " 

"There  are  archers  and  archers,"  said  the  old  man. 
"  Some  archers  are  snobs,  as  your  Ladyship  states ;  some, 
on  the  contrary,  are  gentlemen  by  birth,  at  least,  though 
not  by  breeding.  Witness  young  Otto,  the  Landgrave  of 
Godesberg's  son,  who  is  listening  at  the  door  like  a  lacquey, 
and  whom  I  intend  to  run  through  the  " 

"  Law,  Baron !  "  said  the  lady. 

"I  will,  though,"  replied  the  Baron,  drawing  an  immense 
sword,  and  glaring  round  at  Otto ;  but  though  at  the  sight 
of  that  sword  and  that  scowl  a  less  valorous  youth  would 
have  taken  to  his  heels,  the  undaunted  Childe  advanced  at 
once  into  the  apartment.  He  wore  round  his  neck  a  relic 
of  Saint  Buffo  (the  tip  of  the  saint's  ear,  which  had  been 
cut  off  at  Constantinople).  "Fiends!  I  command  you  to 
retreat!  "  said  he,  holding  up  this  sacred  charm,  which  his 
mamma  had  fastened  on  him ;  and  at  the  sight  of  it,  with 
an  unearthly  yell  the  ghosts  of  the  Baron  and  the  Baroness 
sprang  back  into  their  picture-frames,  as  clown  goes  through 
a  clock  in  a  pantomime. 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE.  279 


He  rushed  through  the  open  door  by  which  the  ud lucky 
Wolfgang  had  passed  with  his  demoniacal  bride,  and  went 
on  and  on  through  the  vast  gloomy  chambers  lighted  by  the 
ghastly  moonshine :  the  noise  of  the  organ  in  the  chapel, 
the  lights  in  the  kaleidoscopic  windows,  directed  him  tow- 
ards that  edifice.  He  rushed  to  the  door:  Hwas  barred! 
He  knocked :  the  beadles  were  deaf.  He  applied  his  ines- 
timable relic  to  the  lock,  and — whizz !  crash !  clang !  bang ! 
whang ! — the  gate  flew  open !  the  organ  went  off  in  a  fugue 
— the  lights  quivered  over  the  tapers,  and  then  went  off 
towards  the  ceiling — the  ghosts  assembled  rushed  "away 
with  a  skurry  and  a  scream — the  bride  howled,  and  van- 
ished— the  fat  bishop  waddled  back  under  his  brass  plate — 
the  dean  flounced  down  into  his  family  vault — and  the 
canon  Schidnischmidt,  who  was  making  a  joke,  as  usual, 
on  the  bishop,  was  obliged  to  stop  at  the  very  point  of  his 
epigram,  and  to  disappear  into  the  void  whence  he  came. 

Otto  fell  fainting  at  the  porch,  while  Wolfgang  tumbled 
lifeless  down  at  the  altar-steps ;  and  in  this  situation  the 
archers,  when  they  arrived,  found  the  two  youths.  They 
were  resuscitated,  as  we  scarce  need  say ;  but  when,  in  in- 
coherent accents,  they  came  to  tell  their  wondrous  tale, 
some  sceptics  among  the  archers  said — Pooh !  they  were 
intoxicated !  "  while  others,  nodding  their  older  heads,  ex- 
claimed— "  They  have  seen  the  Lady  of  Windeck  I "  and  re- 
called the  stories  of  many  other  young  men,  who,  inveigled 
by  her  devilish  arts,  had  not  been  so  lucky  as  Wolfgang, 
and  had  disappeared — for  ever ! 

This  adventure  bound  Wolfgang  heart  and  soul  to  his 
gallant  preserver ;  and  the  archers — ^it  being  now  morning, 
and  the  cocks  crowing  lustily  round  about — pursued  their 
way  without  further  delay  to  the  castle  of  the  noble  patron 
of  toxophilites,  the  gallant  Duke  of  Cleves. 


280 


A  LEGEND  OP  THE  RHINE. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BOWMEN. 

Although  there  lay  an  immense  number  of  castles  and 
abbeys  between  Windeck  and  Cleves,  for  every  one  of 
which  the  guide-books  have  a  legend  and  a  ghost,  who 
might,  with  the  commonest  stretch  of  ingenuity,  be  made 
to  waylay  our  adventurers  on  the  road;  yet,  as  the  journey 
would  be  thus  almost  interminable,  let  us  cut  it  short  by 
saying  that  the  travellers  reached  Cleves  without  any  fur- 
ther accident,  and  found  the  place  thronged  with  visitors 
for  the  meeting  next  day. 

And  here  it  would  be  easy  to  describe  the  company  which 
arrived,  and  make  display  of  antiquarian  lore.  Now  we 
would  represent  a  cavalcade  of  knights  arriving,  with  their 
pages  carrying  their  shining  helms  of  gold,  and  the  stout 
esquires,  bearers  of  lance  and  banner.  Anon  would  arrive 
a  fat  abbot  on  his  ambling  pad,  surrounded  by  the  white- 
robed  companions  of  his  convent.  Here  should  come  the 
gleemen  and  jongleurs,  the  minstrels,  the  mountebanks,  the 
particoloured  gipsies,  the  dark-eyed,  nut-brown  Zigeuner- 
innen ;  then  a  troop  of  peasants  chanting  Khine-songs,  and 
leading  in  their  ox-drawn  carts  the  peach-cheeked  girls 
from  the  vine-lands.  Next  we  would  depict  the  litters 
blazoned  with  armorial  bearings,  from  between  the  broid- 
ered  curtains  of  which  peeped  out  the  swan-like  necks  and 
the  haughty  faces  of  the  blonde  ladies  of  the  castles.  But 
for  these  descriptions  we  have  not  space ;  and  the  reader  is 
referred  to  the  account  of  the  tournament  in  the  ingenious 
novel  of  "  Ivanhoe  where  the  above  phenomena  are  de- 
scribed at  length.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  Otto  and  his  com- 
panions arrived  at  the  town  of  Cleves,  and,  hastening  to  a 
hostel,  reposed  themselves  after  the  day's  march,  and  pre- 
pared them  for  the  encounter  of  the  morrow. 

That  morrow  came :  and  as  the  sports  were  to  begin 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


281 


early,  Otto  and  his  comrades  hastened  to  the  field,  armed 
with  their  best  bows  and  arrows,  you  may  be  sure,  and 
eager  to  distinguish  themselves;  as  were  the  multitude  of 
other  archers  assembled.  They  were  from  all  neighbour- 
ing countries — crowds  of  English,  as  you  may  fancy,  armed 
with  Murray's  guide-books,  troops  of  chattering  French- 
men, Frankfort  Jews  with  roulette-tables,  and  Tyrolese 
with  gloves  and  trinkets — all  hied  towards  the  field  where 
the  butts  were  set  up,  and  the  archery  practice  was  to  be 
held.  The  Childe  and  his  brother  archers  were,  it  need 
not  be  said,  early  on  the  ground. 

But  what  words  of  mine  can  describe  the  young  gentle- 
man's emotion  when,  preceded  by  a  band  of  trumpets,  bag- 
pipes, ophicleides,  and  other  wind  instruments,  the  Prince 
of  Cleves  appeared  with  the  Princess  Helen,  his  daughter? 
And  ah!  what  expressions  of  my  humble  pen  can  do  jus- 
tice to  the  beauty  of  that  young  lady?  Fancy  every  charm 
which  decorates  the  person,  every  virtue  which  ornaments 
the  mind,  every  accomplishment  which  renders  charming 
mind  and  charming  person  doubly  charming,  and  then  you 
will  have  but  a  faint  and  feeble  idea  of  the  beauties  of  Her 
Highness  the  Princess  Helen.  Fancy  a  complexion  such 
as  they  say  (I  know  not  with  what  justice)  Eowland's 
Kalydor  imparts  to  the  users  of  that  cosmetic ;  fancy  teeth 
to  which  orient  pearls  are  like  Wallsend  coals ;  eyes,  which 
were  so  blue,  tender,  and  bright,  that  while  they  ran  you 
through  with  their  lustre,  they  healed  you  with  their  kind- 
ness ;  a  neck  and  waist,  so  ravishingly  slender  and  grace- 
ful, that  the  least  that  is  said  about  them  the  better ;  a  foot 
which  fell  upon  the  flowers  no  heavier  than  a  dewdrop — and 
this  charming  person  set  off  by  the  most  elegant  toilet  that 
ever  milliner  devised !  The  lovely  Helen's  hair  (which  was 
as  black  as  the  finest  varnish  for  boots)  was  so  long,  that  it 
was  borne  on  a  cushion  several  yards  behind  her  by  the 
maidens  of  her  train ;  and  a  hat,  set  off  with  moss-roses, 
sunflowers,  bugles,  birds-of-paradise,  gold  lace,  and  pink 
ribbon,  gave  her  a  distingue  air,  which  would  have  set  the 
editor  of  the  Morning  Post  mad  with  love. 


282 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


It  had  exactly  the  same  effect  upon  the  noble  Childe  of 
Godesberg,  as  leaning  on  his  ivory  bow,  with  his  legs 
crossed,  he  stood  and  gazed  on  her,  as  Cupid  gazed  on 
Ps3^che.  Their  eyes  met;  it  was  all  over  with  both  of 
them.  A  blush  came  at  one  and  the  same  minute  budding 
to  the  cheek  of  either,  A  simultaneous  throb  beat  m  those 
young  hearts !  They  loved  each  other  for  ever  from  that 
instant.  Otto  still  stood,  cross-legged,  enraptured,  leaning 
on  his  ivory  bow ;  but  Helen,  calling  to  a  maiden  for  her 
pocket-handkerchief,  blew  her  beautiful  Grecian  nose  in 
order  to  hide  her  agitation.  Bless  ye,  bless  ye,  pretty 
ones !  I  am  old  now ;  but  not  so  old  but  that  I  kindle  at 
the  tale  of  love.  Theresa  MacWhirter  too  has  lived  and 
loved.    Heigho ! 

Who  is  yon  chief  that  stands  behind  the  truck  whereon 
are  seated  the  Princess  and  the  stout  old  lord  her  father? 
Who  is  he  whose  hair  is  of  the  carroty  hue — whose  eyes, 
across  a  snubby  bunch  of  a  nose,  are  perpetually  scowling 
at  each  other ;  who  has  a  humpback,  and  a  hideous  mouth, 
surrounded  with  bristles,  and  crammed  full  of  jutting  yel- 
low odious  teeth?  Although  he  wears  a  sky-blue  doublet 
laced  with  silver,  it  only  serves  to  render  his  vulgar  punchy 
figure  doubly  ridiculous ;  although  his  nether  garment  is 
of  salmon-coloured  velvet,  it  only  draws  the  more  attention 
to  his  legs,  which  are  disgustingly  crooked  and  bandy.  A 
rose-coloured  hat,  with  towering  pea-green  ostrich-plumes, 
looks  absurd  on  his  bull-head ;  and  though  it  is  time  of 
peace,  the  wretch  is  armed  with  a  multiplicity  of  daggers, 
knives,  yataghans,  dirks,  sabres,  and  scimitars,  which 
testify  his  truculent  and  bloody  disposition.  'Tis  the  ter- 
rible Rowski  de  Donnerblitz,  Margrave  of  Eulenschrecken- 
stein.  Eeport  says  he  is  a  suitor  for  the  hand  of  the  lovely 
Helen.  He  addresses  various  speeches  of  gallantry  to  her 
and  grins  hideously  as  he  thrusts  his  disgusting  head  over 
her  lily  shoulder.  But  she  turns  away  from  him !  turns 
and  shudders — ay,  as  she  would  at  a  black  dose ! 

Otto  stands  gazing  still,  and  leaning  on  his  bow, 
"  What  is  the  prize?  "  asks  one  archer  of  another.  There 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


283 


are  two  prizes — a  velvet  cap,  embroidered  by  the  baud  of 
the  Princess,  and  a  chain  of  massive  gold,  of  enormous 
value.    Both  lie  on  cushions  before  her. 

"I  know  which  I  shall  choose,  when  I  win  the  first 
prize,"  says  a  swarthy,  savage,  and  bandy-legged  archer, 
who  bears  the  owl  gules  on  a  black  shield,  the  cognisance 
of  the  Lord  Eowski  de  Donnerblitz. 

"  Which,  fellow?  "  says  Otto,  turning  fiercely  upon  him. 

"  The  chain,  to  be  sure !  "  says  the  leering  archer.  "  You 
do  not  suppose  I  am  such  a  flat  as  to  choose  that  velvet 
gimcrack  there? Otto  laughed  in  scorn,  and  began  to 
prepare  his  bow.  The  trumpets  sounding  proclaimed  that 
the  sports  were  about  to  commence. 

Is  it  necessary  to  describe  them?  No:  that  has  already 
been  done  in  the  novel  of  '^Ivanhoe''  before  mentioned. 
Fancy  the  archers  clad  in  Lincoln  green,  all  coming  forward 
in  turn,  and  firmg  at  the  targets.  Some  hit,  some  missed ; 
those  that  missed  were  fain  to  retire  amidst  the  jeers  of 
the  multitudinous  spectators.  Those  that  hit  began  new 
trials  of  skill ;  but  it  was  easy  to  see,  from  the  first,  that 
the  battle  lay  between  Squintoff  (the  Eowski  archer)  and 
the  young  hero  with  the  golden  hair  and  the  ivory  bow. 
Squintoff' s  fame  as  a  marksman  was  known  throughout 
Europe ;  but  who  was  his  young  competitor?  Ah !  there 
was  one  heart  in  the  assembly  that  beat  most  anxiously  to 
know.    'Twas  Helen's. 

The  crowning  trial  arrived.  The  bull's-eye  of  the  tar- 
get, set  up  at  three-quarters  of  a  mile  distance  from  the 
archers,  was  so  small,  that  it  required  a  very  clever  man 
indeed  to  see,  much  more  to  hit  it ;  and  as  Squintoff  was 
selecting  his  arrow  for  the  final  trial,  the  Eowski  flung  a 
purse  of  gold  towards  his  archer,  saying — "  Squintoff,  an 
ye  win  the  prize,  the  purse  is  thine."  "I  may  as  well 
pocket  it  at  once,  your  honour,"  said  the  bowman,  with  a 
sneer  at  Otto.  "  This  young  chick,  who  has  been  lucky  as 
yet,  will  hardly  hit  such  a  mark  as  that."  And,  taking 
his  aim,  Squintoff  discharged  his  arrow  right  into  the  very 
middle  of  the  bull's-eye. 


284 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


"Can  you  mend  that,  young  springald?"  said  he,  as  a 
shout  rent  the  air  at  his  success,  as  Helen  turned  pale  to 
think  that  the  champion  of  her  secret  heart  was  likely  to 
be  overcome,  and  as  Squintoff,  pocketing  the  Eowski's 
money,  turned  to  the  noble  boy  of  Godesberg. 

"  Has  anybody  got  a  pea?  "  asked  the  lad.  Everybody 
laughed  at  his  droll  request ;  and  an  old  woman,  who  was 
selling  porridge  in  the  crowd,  handed  him  the  vegetable 
which  he  demanded.  It  was  a  dry  and  yellow  pea.  Otto, 
stepping  up  to  the  target,  caused  Squintoff  to  extract  his 
arrow  from  the  bull's-eye,  and  placed  in  the  orifice  made  by 
the  steel  point  of  the  shaft,  the  pea  which  he  had  received 
from  the  old  woman.  He  then  came  back  to  his  place. 
As  he  prepared  to  shoot,  Helen  was  so  overcome  by  emo- 
tion, that  Hwas  thought  she  would  have  fainted.  Never, 
never  had  she  seen  a  being  so  beautiful  as  the  young  hero 
now  before  her. 

He  looked  almost  divine.  He  flung  back  his  long  clus- 
ters of  hair  from  his  bright  eyes  and  tall  forehead;  the 
blush  of  health  mantled  on  his  cheek,  from  which  the  bar- 
ber's weapon  had  never  shorn  the  down.  He  took  his  bow, 
and  one  of  his  most  elegant  arrows,  and  poising  himself 
lightly  on  his  right  leg,  he  flung  himself  forward,  raising 
his  left  leg  on  a  level  with  his  ear.  He  looked  like  Apollo, 
as  he  stood  balancing  himself  there.  He  discharged  his 
dart  from  the  thrumming  bowstring :  it  clove  the  blue  air 
— whizz ! 

"  He  has  split  the  pea  !  "  said  the  Princess,  and  fainted. 
The  Rowski,  with  one  eye,  hurled  an  indignant  look  at  the 
boy,  while  with  the  other  he  levelled  (if  aught  so  crooked 
can  be  said  to  level  anything)  a  furious  glance  at  his  archer. 

The  archer  swore  a  sulky  oath.  "  He  is  the  better  man !  " 
said  he.  "I  suppose,  young  chap,  you  take  the  gold 
chain? 

"The  gold  chain! said  Otto.  "Prefer  a  gold  chain  to 
a  cap  worked  by  that  august  hand?  Never ! "  And  ad- 
vancing to  the  balcony  where  the  Princess,  who  now  came 
to  herself,  was  sitting,  he  kneeled  down  before  her,  and  re- 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


285 


ceived  the  velvet  cap ;  which,  bkishing  as  scarlet  as  the  cap 
itself,  the  Princess  Helen  placed  on  his  golden  ringlets. 
Once  more  their  eyes  met — their  hearts  thrilled.  They 
had  never  spoken,  but  they  knew  they  loved  each  other  for 
ever. 

"  Wilt  thou  take  service  with  the  Eowski  of  Donner* 
blitz? said  that  individual  to  the  youth.  "  Thou  shalt  be 
captain  of  my  archers  in  place  of  yon  blundering  nincom- 
poop, whom  thou  hast  overcome.'^ 

"Yon  blundering  nincompoop  is  a  skilful  and  gallant 
archer,"  replied  Otto  haughtily;  "and  I  will  not  take  ser- 
vice with  the  Eowski  of  Donnerblitz." 

"  Wilt  thou  enter  the  household  of  the  Prince  of  Cleves?  " 
said  the  father  of  Helen,  laughing,  and  not  a  little  amused 
at  the  haughtiness  of  the  humble  archer. 

"I  would  die  for  the  Duke  of  Cleves  and  his  family, 
said  Otto,  bowing  low.    He  laid  a  particular  and  a  tender 
emphasis  on  the  word  family.    Helen  knew  what  he 
meant     She  was  the  family.    In  fact,  her  mother  was  no 
more,  and  her  papa  had  no  other  offspring. 

"  What  is  thy  name,  good  fellow,''  said  the  Prince,  "  that 
my  steward  may  enrol  thee?  " 

"Sir,'^  said  Otto,  again  blushing,  "I  am  Otto  the 
Archer.'' 


286  A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  MARTYR  OF  LOVE. 

The  archers  who  had  travelled  in  company  with  young 
Otto,  gave  a  handsome  dinner  in  compliment  to  the  success 
of  our  hero ;  at  which  his  friend  distinguished  himself  as 
usual  in  the  eating  and  drinking  department.  Squintoff, 
the  Eowski  bowman,  declined  to  attend ;  so  great  was  the 
envy  of  the  brute  at  the  youthful  hero's  superiority.  As 
for  Otto  himself,  he  sat  on  the  right  hand  of  the  chairman ; 
but  it  was  remarked  that  he  could  not  eat.  Gentle  reader 
of  my  page !  thou  knowest  why  full  well.  He  was  too  much 
in  love  to  have  any  appetite ;  for  though  I  myself,  when 
labouring  under  that  passion,  never  found  my  consumption 
of  victuals  diminish,  yet  remember  our  Otto  was  a  hero  of 
romance,  and  they  never  are  hungry  when  they're  in  love. 

The  next  day,  the  young  gentleman  proceeded  to  enrol 
himself  in  the  corps  of  Archers  of  the  Prince  of  Cleves, 
and  with  him  came  his  attached  squire,  who  vowed  he 
never  would  leave  him.  As  Otto  threw  aside  his  own  ele- 
gant dress,  and  donned  the  livery  of  the  House  of  Cleves, 
the  noble  Childe  sighed  not  a  little.  'Twas  a  splendid  uni- 
form, 'tis  true,  but  still  it  was  a  livery,  and  one  of  his 
proud  spirit  ill  bears  another's  cognisance.  "They  are  the 
colours  of  the  Princess,  however,"  said  he,  consoling  him- 
self ;  "  and  what  suffering  would  I  not  undergo  for  her  ?  " 
As  for  Wolfgang,  the  squire,  it  may  well  be  supposed  that 
the  good-natured  low-born  fellow  had  no  such  scruples ; 
but  he  was  glad  enough  to  exchange  for  the  pink  hose,  the 
yellow  jacket,  the  pea-green  cloak,  and  orange-tawny  hat, 
with  which  the  Duke's  steward  supplied  him,  the  homely 
patched  doublet  of  green  which  he  had  worn  for  years  past. 

"Look  at  yon  two  archers,"  said  the  Prince  of  Cleves  to 
his  guest  the  Eowski  of  Donnerblitz,  as  they  were  strolling 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


287 


on  the  battlements  after  dinner,  smoking  their  cigars  as 
usual.  His  Highness  pointed  to  our  two  young  friends,  who 
were  mounting  guard  for  the  first  time.  "See  yon  two 
bowmen — mark  their  bearing!  One  is  the  youth  who  beat 
thy  Squintoff,  and  t'other,  an  I  mistake  not,  won  the  third 
prize  at  the  butts.  Both  wear  the  same  uniform — the  col- 
ours of  my  house — yet,  wouldst  not  swear  that  the  one  was 
but  a  churl,  and  the  other  a  noble  gentleman? 

"  Which  looks  like  the  nobleman?  said  the  Eowski,  as 
black  as  thunder. 

"  Which  ?  why,  young  Otto,  to  be  sure,"  said  the  Prin- 
cess Helen  eagerly.  The  young  lady  was  following  the 
pair ;  but  under  pretence  of  disliking  the  odour  of  the  cigar, 
she  had  refused  the  Eowski's  proffered  arm,  and  was  loi- 
tering behind  with  her  parasol. 

Her  interposition  in  favour  of  her  young  protege  only 
made  the  black  and  jealous  Rowski  more  ill-humoured. 
"How  long  is  it.  Sir  Prince  of  Cleves,"  said  he,  "that  the 
churls  who  wear  your  livery  permit  themselves  to  wear  the 
ornaments  of  noble  knights?  Who  but  a  noble  dare  wear 
ringlets  such  as  yon  springald^s?  Ho,  archer! roared  he, 
"come  hither,  fellow."  And  Otto  stood  before  him.  As 
he  came,  and  presenting  arms  stood  respectfully  before  the 
Prince  and  his  savage  guest,  he  looked  for  one  moment  at 
the  lovely  Helen — their  eyes  met,  their  hearts  beat  simul- 
taneously :  and,  quick,  two  little  blushes  appeared  in  the 
cheek  of  either.  I  have  seen  one  ship  at  sea  answering 
another's  signal  so. 

While  they  are  so  regarding  each  other,  let  us  just  re- 
mind our  readers  of  the  great  estimation  in  which  the  hair 
was  held  in  the  North.  Only  nobles  were  permitted  to 
wear  it  long.  When  a  man  disgraced  himself,  a  shaving 
was  sure  to  follow.  Penalties  were  inflicted  upon  villains 
or  vassals  who  sported  ringlets.  See  the  works  of  Aurelius 
Tonsor;  Hirsutus  de  Nobilitate  Capillari;  Rolandus  de 
Oleo  Macassari ;  Schnurrbart ;  Frisirische  Alterthums- 
kunde,  etc. 

"  We  must  have4;hose  ringlets  of  thine  cut,  good  fellow," 
13 — Vol.  19 


288 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


said  the  Duke  of  Cleves  good-naturedly,  but  wishing  to 
spare  the  feelings  of  his  gallant  recruit.  'Tis  against  the 
regulation  cut  of  my  archer  guard." 

"Cut  off  my  hair! cried  Otto,  agonised, 

"Ay,  and  thme  ears  with  it,  yokel,''  roared  Donnerblitz. 

"Peace,  noble  Eulenschreckenstein,"  said  the  Duke  with 
dignity :  "  let  the  Duke  of  Cleves  deal  as  he  will  with  his 
own  men-at-arnis.  And  you,  young  sir,  unloose  the  grip 
of  thy  dagger." 

Otto,  indeed,  had  convulsively  grasped  his  snickersnee, 
with  intent  to  plunge  it  into  the  heart  of  the  Eowski ;  but 
his  politer  feelings  overcame  him.  "  The  Count  need  not 
fear,  my  Lord, "  said  he :  "a  lady  is  present. "  And  he 
took  oft'  his  orange-tawny  cap  and  bowed  low.  Ah !  what 
a  pang  shot  through  the  heart  of  Helen,  as  she  thought 
that  those  lovely  ringlets  must  be  shorn  from  that  beauti- 
ful head ! 

Otto's  mind  was,  too,  in  commotion.  His  feelings  as  a 
gentleman — let  us  add,  his  pride  as  a  man — for  who  is  not, 
let  us  ask,  proud  of  a  good  head  of  hair? — waged  war  with- 
in his  souL  He  expostulated  with  the  Prince.  "It  was 
never  in  my  contemplation,"  he  said,  "on  taking  service, 
to  undergo  the  operation  of  hair-cutting." 

"  Thou  art  free  to  go  or  stay.  Sir  Archer, "  said  the  Prince 
pettishly.  "  I  will  have  no  churls  imitating  noblemen  in 
my  service :  I  will  bandy  no  conditions  with  archers  of  my 
guard." 

"  My  resolve  is  taken/'  said  Otto,  irritated  too  in  his 
turn.    "I  will  " 

"  What? "  cried  Helen,  breathless  with  intense  agita- 
tion. 

"I  will  stay,^^  answered  Otto.  The  poor  girl  almost 
fainted  with  joy.  The  Eowski  frowned  with  demoniac 
fury,  and  grinding  his  teeth  and  cursing  in  the  horrible 
German  jargon,  stalked  away.  "  So  be  it,"  said  the  Prince 
of  Cleves,  taking  his  daughter's  arm — "and  here  comes 
Snipwitz,  my  barber,  who  shall  do  the  business  for  you." 
With  this  the  Prince  too  moved  on,  feeling  in  his  heart  not 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


289 


a  little  compassion  for  the  lad ;  for  Adolf  of  Cleves  had 
been  handsome  in  his  youth,  and  distinguished  for  the  or- 
nament of  which  he  was  now  depriving  his  archer. 

Snipwitz  led  the  poor  lad  into  a  side-room,  and  there — 
in  a  word — operated  upon  him.  The  golden  curls — fair 
curls  that  his  mother  had  so  often  played  with ! — fell  under 
the  shears  and  round  the  lad's  knees,  until  he  looked  as  if 
he  was  sitting  in  a  bath  of  sunbeams. 

When  the  frightful  act  had  been  performed.  Otto,  who 
entered  the  little  chamber  in  the  tower  ringleted  like 
Apollo,  issued  from  it  as  cropped  as  a  charity-boy. 

See  how  melancholy  he  looks,  now  that  the  operation  is 
over ! — And  no  wonder.  He  was  thinking  what  would  be 
Helen's  opinion  of  him,  now  that  one  of  his  chief  personal 
ornaments  was  gone.  "Will  she  know  me?"  thought  he; 
"will  she  love  me  after  this  hideous  mutilation? '' 

Yielding  to  these  gloomy  thoughts,  and,  indeed,  rather 
unwilling  to  be  seen  by  his  comrades,  now  that  he  was  so 
disfigured,  the  young  gentleman  had  hidden  himself  behind 
one  of  the  buttresses  of  the  wall,  a  prey  to  natural  despond- 
ency; when  he  saw  something  which  instantly  restored 
him  to  good  spirits.  He  saw  the  lovely  Helen  coming 
towards  the  chamber  where  the  odious  barber  had  per- 
formed upon  him — coming  forward  timidly,  looking  round 
her  anxiously,  blushing  with  delightful  agitation, — and 
presently  seeing,  as  she  thought,  the  coast  clear,  she  en- 
tered the  apartment.  She  stooped  down,  and  ah!  what 
was  Otto's  joy  when  he  saw  her  pick  up  a  beautiful  golden 
lock  of  his  hair,  press  it  to  her  lips,  and  then  hide  it  in 
her  bosom  !  No  carnation  ever  blushed  so  redly  as  Helen 
did  when  she  came  out  after  performing  this  feat.  Then 
she  hurried  straightway  to  her  own  apartments  in  the  cas- 
tle, and  Otto,  whose  first  impulse  was  to  come  out  from  his 
hiding-place,  and,  falling  at  her  feet,  call  heaven  and  earth 
to  witness  to  his  passion,  with  difiiculty  restrained  his  feel- 
ings and  let  her  pass ;  but  the  love-stricken  young  hero  was 
so  delighted  with  this  evident  proof  of  reciprocated  attach- 
ment, that  all  regret  at  losing  his  ringlets  at  once  left  him, 


290 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


and  he  vowed  he  would  sacrifice  not  only  his  hair,  but  his 
head,  if  need  were,  to  do  her  service. 

That  very  afternoon,  no  small  bustle  and  conversation 
took  place  in  the  castle,  on  account  of  the  sudden  departure 
of  the  Eowski  of  Eulenschreckenstein,  with  all  his  train 
and  equipage.  He  went  away  in  the  greatest  wrath,  it  was 
said,  after  a  long  and  loud  conversation  with  the  Prince. 
As  that  potentate  conducted  his  guest  to  the  gate,  walking 
rather  demurely  and  shamefacedly  by  his  side,  as  he  gath- 
ered his  attendants  in  the  court,  and  there  mounted  his 
charger,  the  Kowski  ordered  his  trumpets  to  sound,  and 
scornfully  flung  a  largesse  of  gold  among  the  servitors  and 
men-at-arms  of  the  House  of  Cleves,  who  were  marshalled 
in  the  court.  "Farewell,  Sir  Prince,''  said  he  to  his  host: 
"  I  quit  you  now  suddenly ;  but  remember,  it  is  not  my  last 
visit  to  the  Castle  of  Cleves."  And  ordering  his  band  to 
play  "See  the  Conquering  Hero  comes,"  he  clattered  away 
through  the  drawbridge.  The  Princess  Helen  was  not 
present  at  his  departure ;  and  the  venerable  Prince  of  Cleves 
looked  rather  moody  and  chapfallen  when  his  guest  left 
him.  He  visited  all  the  castle  defences  pretty  accurately 
that  night,  and  inquired  of  his  officers  the  state  of  the 
ammunition,  provisions,  etc.  He  said  nothing;  but  the 
Princess  Helen's  maid  did:  and  everybody  knew  that  the 
Eowski  had  made  his  proposals,  had  been  rejected,  and, 
getting  up  in  a  violent  fury,  had  called  for  his  people,  and 
sworn  by  his  great  gods  that  he  would  not  enter  the  castle 
again  until  he  rode  over  the  breach,  lance  in  hand,  the 
conqueror  of  Cleves  and  all  belonging  to  it. 

No  little  consternation  was  spread  through  the  garrison 
at  the  news :  for  everybody  knew  the  Rowski  to  be  one  of 
the  most  intrepid  and  powerful  soldiers  in  all  Germany — one 
of  the  most  skilful  generals.  Generous  to  extravagance  to 
his  own  followers,  he  was  ruthless  to  the  enemy :  a  hun- 
dred stories  were  told  of  the  dreadful  barbarities  exercised 
by  him  in  several  towns  and  castles  which  he  had  captured 
and  sacked.  And  poor  Helen  had  the  pain  of  thinking, 
that  in  consequence  of  her  refusal  she  was  dooming  all  the 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


291 


men,  women,  and  children  of  the  principality  to  indiscrimi- 
nate and  horrible  slaughter. 

The  dreadful  surmises  regarding  a  war  received  in  a  few 
days  dreadful  confirmation.  It  was  noon,  and  the  worthy 
Prince  of  Cleves  was  taking  his  dinner  (though  the  honest 
warrior  had  had  little  appetite  for  that  meal  for  some  time 
past),  when  trumpets  were  heard  at  the  gate ;  and  presently 
the  herald  of  the  Kowski  of  Donnerblitz,  clad  in  a  tabard 
on  which  the  arms  of  the  Count  were  blazoned,  entered  the 
dining-hall.  A  page  bore  a  steel  gauntlet  on  a  cushion ; 
Bleu  Sanglier  had  his  hat  on  his  head.  The  Prince  of 
Cleves  put  on  his  own,  as  the  herald  came  up  to  the  chair 
of  state  where  the  sovereign  sat 

Silence  for  Bleu  Sanglier,'^  cried  the  Prince  gravely. 
"  Say  your  say.  Sir  Herald.^' 

"  In  the  name  of  the  high  and  mighty  Eowski,  Prince  of 
Donnerblitz,  Margrave  of  Eulenschreckenstein,  Count  of 
Krotenwald,  Schnauzestadt,  and  Galgenhtigel,  Hereditary 
Grand  Corkscrew  of  the  Holy  Koman  Empire — to  you, 
Adolf  the  Twenty-third,  Prince  of  Cleves,  I,  Bleu  Sanglier, 
bring  war  and  defiance.  Alone,  and  lance  to  lance,  or 
twenty  to  twenty  in  field  or  in  fort,  on  plain  or  on  moun- 
tain, the  noble  Eowski  defies  you.  Here,  or  wherever  he 
shall  meet  you,  he  proclaims  war  to  the  death  between  you 
and  him.  In  token  whereof,  here  is  his  glove. And  tak- 
ing the  steel  glove  from  the  page,  Bleu  Boar  flung  it  clang- 
ing on  the  marble  floor. 

The  Princess  Helen  turned  deadly  pale :  but  the  Prince, 
with  a  good  assurance,  flung  down  his  own  glove,  calling 
upon  some  one  to  raise  the  Eowski' s:  which  Otto  accord- 
ingly took  up  and  presented,  to  him,  on  his  knee, 

"  Boteler,  fill  my  goblet, said  the  Prince  to  that  func- 
tionary, who,  clothed  in  tight  black  hose,  with  a  white 
kerchief,  and  a  napkin  on  his  dexter  arm  stood  obsequi- 
ously by  his  master's  chair.  The  goblet  was  filled  with 
Malvoisie:  it  held  about  three  quarts;  a  precious  golden 
hanap  carved  by  the  cunning  artificer,  Benvenuto  the  Flor- 
entine. 


292 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


"Drink,  Bleu  Sanglier,"  said  the  Prince,  "and  put  the 
goblet  in  thy  bosom.  Wear  this  chain,  furthermore,  for 
my  sake."  And  so  saying,  Prince  Adolf  flung  a  precious 
chain  of  emeralds  round  the  herald's  neck.  "An  invita- 
tion to  battle  was  ever  a  welcome  call  to  Adolf  of  Cleves.'* 
So  saying,  and  bidding  his  people  take  good  care  of  Bleu 
Sanglier's  retinue,  the  Prince  left  the  hall  with  his  daugh- 
ter. All  were  marvelling  at  his  dignity,  courage,  and 
generosity. 

But,  though  affecting  unconcern,  the  mind  of  Prince 
Adolf  was  far  from  tranquil.  He  was  no  longer  the  stal- 
wart knight  who,  in  the  reign  of  Stanislaus  Augustus,  had, 
with  his  naked  fist,  beaten  a  lion  to  death  in  three  minutes : 
and  alone  had  kept  the  postern  of  Peterwaradin  for  two 
hours  against  seven  hundred  Turkish  janissaries,  who  were 
assailing  it.  Those  deeds  which  had  made  the  heir  of 
Cleves  famous  were  done  thirty  years  s^-ne.  A  free  liver 
since  he  had  come  into  his  principality,  and  of  a  lazy  turn, 
he  had  neglected  the  athletic  exercises  which  had  made 
him  in  youth  so  famous  a  champion,  and  indolence  had 
borne  its  usual  fruits.  He  tried  his  old  battle-sword — that 
famous  blade  with  which,  in  Palestine,  he  had  cut  an  ele- 
phant-driver in  two  pieces,  and  split  asunder  the  skull  of 
the  elephant  which  he  rode.  Adolf  of  Cleves  could  scarcely 
now  lift  the  weapon  over  his  head.  He  tried  his  armour. 
It  was  too  tight  for  him.  And  the  old  soldier  burst  into 
tears  when  he  found  he  could  not  buckle  it.  Such  a  man 
was  not  fit  to  encounter  the  terrible  Eowski  in  single 
combat. 

Nor  could  he  hope  to  make  head  against  him  for  any 
time  in  the  field.  The  Prince's  territories  were  small;  his 
vassals  proverbially  lazy  and  peaceable ;  his  treasury  empty. 
The  dismallest  prospects  were  before  him :  and  he  passed 
a  sleepless  night  writing  to  his  friends  for  succour,  and  cal- 
culating with  his  secretary  the  small  amount  of  the  re- 
sources which  he  could  bring  to  aid  him  against  his  advanc- 
ing and  powerful  enemy 

Helen's  pillow  that  evening  was  also  un visited  by  slum- 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


293 


ber.  She  lay  awake  thinking  of  Otto, — thinking  of  the 
danger  and  the  ruin  her  refusal  to  marry  had  brought  upon 
her  dear  papa.  Otto,  too,  slept  not:  but  his  waking 
thoughts  were  brilliant  and  heroic :  the  noble  Childe  thought 
how  he  should  defend  the  Princess,  and  win  los  and  hon- 
our in  the  ensuing  combat. 


294 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  CHAMPION. 

And  now  the  noble  Cleves  began  in  good  earnest  to  pre- 
pare his  castle  for  the  threatened  siege.  He  gathered  in 
all  the  available  cattle  round  the  property,  and  the  pigs 
round  many  miles ;  and  a  dreadful  slaughter  of  horned  and 
snouted  animals  took  place, — the  whole  castle  resounding 
with  the  lowing  of  the  oxen  and  the  squeaks  of  the  grunt- 
lings,  destined  to  provide  food  for  the  garrison.  These, 
when  slain  (her  gentle  spirit,  of  course,  would  not  allow  of 
her  witnessing  that  disagreeable  operation),  the  lovely  Hel- 
en, with  the  assistance  of  her  maidens,  carefully  salted  and 
pickled.  Corn  was  brought  in  in  great  quantities,  the 
Prince  paying  for  the  same  when  he  had  money,  giving 
bills  when  he  could  get  credit,  or  occasionally,  marry,  send- 
ing out  a  few  stout  men-at-arms  to  forage,  who  brought  in 
wheat  without  money  or  credit  either.  The  charming 
Princess,  amidst  the  intervals  of  her  labours,  went  about 
encouraging  the  garrison,  who  vowed  to  a  man  they  would 
die  for  a  single  sweet  smile  of  hers ;  and  in  order  to  make 
their  inevitable  sufferings  as  easy  as  possible  to  the  gallant 
fellows,  she  and  the  apothecaries  got  ready  a  plenty  of 
efficacious  simples,  and  scraped  a  vast  quantity  of  lint  to 
bind  their  warriors'  wounds  withal.  All  the  fortifications 
were  strengthened ;  the  fosses  carefully  filled  with  spikes 
and  water ;  large  stones  placed  over  the  gates,  convenient 
to  tumble  on  the  heads  of  the  assaulting  parties ;  and  caul- 
drons prepared,  with  furnaces  to  melt  up  pitch,  brimstone, 
boiling  oil,  etc.,  wherewith  hospitably  to  receive  them. 
Having  the  keenest  eye  in  the  whole  garrison,  young  Otto 
was  placed  on  the  topmost  tower,  to  watch  for  the  expected 
coming  of  the  beleaguering  host. 

They  were  seen  only  too  soon.    Long  ranks  of  shining 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


295 


spears  were  seen  glittering  in  tlie  distance,  and  the  army 
of  the  Rowski  soon  made  its  appearance  in  battle's  magnifi- 
cently stern  array.  The  tents  of  the  renowned  chief  and 
his  numerous  warriors  were  pitched  out  of  arrow-shot  of 
the  castle,  but  in  fearful  proximity ;  and  when  his  army 
had  taken  up  its  position,  an  officer  with  a  flag  of  truce 
and  a  trumpet  was  seen  advancing  to  the  castle  gate.  It 
was  the  same  herald  who  had  previously  borne  his  master's 
defiance  to  the  Prince  of  Cleves.  He  came  once  more  to 
the  castle  gate,  and  there  proclaimed  that  the  noble  Count 
of  Eulenschreckenstein  was  in  arms  without,  ready  to  do 
battle  with  the  Prince  of  Cleves,  or  his  champion ;  that  he 
would  remain  in  arms  for  three  days,  read}^  for  combat. 
If  no  man  met  him  at  the  end  of  that  period,  he  would 
deliver  an  assault,  and  would  give  quarter  to  no  single 
soul  in  the  garrison.  So  saying,  the  herald  nailed  his 
lord's  gauntlet  on  the  castle  gate.  As  before,  the  Prince 
flung  him  over  another  glove  from  the  wall ;  though  how 
he  was  to  defend  himself  from  such  a  warrior,  or  get  a 
champion,  or  resist  the  pitiless  assault  that  must  follow, 
the  troubled  old  nobleman  knew  not  in  the  least. 

The  Princess  Helen  passed  the  night  in  the  chapel,  vow- 
ing tons  of  wax  candles  to  all  the  patron  saints  of  the 
House  of  Cleves,  if  they  would  raise  her  up  a  defender. 

But  how  did  the  noble  girl's  heart  sink — how  were  her 
notions  of  the  purity  of  man  shaken  within  her  gentle 
bosom,  by  the  dread  intelligence  which  reached  her  the 
next  morning,  after  the  defiance  of  the  Eowski !  At  roll- 
call  it  was  discovered  that  he  on  whom  she  principally  re- 
lied— he  whom  her  fond  heart  had  singled  out  as  her  cham- 
pion, had  proved  faithless ! 

Otto,  the  degenerate  Otto,  had  fled !  His  comrade,  Wolf- 
gang, had  gone  with  him.  A  rope  was  found  dangling 
from  the  casement  of  their  chamber,  and  they  must  have 
swum  the  moat  and  passed  over  to  the  enemy  in  the  dark- 
ness of  the  previous  night.  "A  pretty  lad  was  this  fair- 
spoken  archer  of  thine !  "  said  the  Prince  her  father  to  her ; 
"  and  a  pretty  kettle  of  fish  hast  thou  cooked  for  the  fond- 


296 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


est  of  fathers."  She  retired  weeping  to  her  apartment. 
Never  before  had  that  young  heart  felt  so  wretched. 

That  morning,  at  nine  o'clock,  as  they  were  going  to 
breakfast,  the  Rowski's  trumpets  sounded.  Clad  in  com- 
plete armour,  and  mounted  on  his  enormous  piebald  charger, 
he  came  out  of  his  pavilion,  and  rode  slowly  up  and  down 
.  in  front  of  the  castle.  He  was  ready  there  to  meet  a 
champion. 

Three  times  each  day  did  the  odious  trumpet  sound  the 
same  notes  of  defiance.  Thrice  daily  did  the  steel-clad 
Rowski  come  forth  challenging  the  combat.  The  first  day 
passed,  and  there  was  no  answer  to  his  summons.  The 
second  day  came  and  went,  but  no  champion  had  risen  to 
defend.  The  taunt  of  his  shrill  clarion  remained  without 
answer ;  and  the  sun  went  down  upon  the  wretchedest 
father  and  daughter  in  all  the  land  of  Christendom. 

The  trumpets  sounded  an  hour  after  sunrise,  an  hour 
after  noon,  and  an  hour  before  sunset.  The  third  day 
came,  but  with  it  brought  no  hope.  The  first  and  second 
summons  met  no  response.  At  five  o'clock  the  old  Prince 
called  his  daughter  and  blessed  her.  I  go  to  meet  this 
Rowski,"  said  he.  "  It  may  be  we  shall  meet  no  more,  my 
Helen — my  child — the  innocent  cause  of  all  this  grief.  If 
I  shall  fall  to-night  the  Rowski' s  victim,  'twill  be  that  life 
is  nothing  without  honour. "  And  so  saying,  he  put  into 
her  hands  a  dagger,  and  bade  her  sheathe  it  in  her  own 
breast  so  soon  as  the  terrible  champion  had  carried  the  cas- 
tle by  storm. 

This  Helen  most  faithfully  promised  to  do ;  and  her  aged 
father  retired  to  his  armoury,  and  donned  his  ancient  war- 
worn corselet.  It  had  borne  the  shock  of  a  thousand  lances 
ere  this,  but  it  was  now  so  tight  as  almost  to  choke  the 
knightly  wearer. 

The  last  trumpet  sounded — tantara !  tantara ! — its  shrill 
call  rang  over  the  wide  plains,  and  the  wide  plains  gave 
back  no  answer.  Again ! — but  when  its  notes  died  away, 
there  was  only  a  mournful,  an  awful  silence.  "Farewell, 
my  child,"  said  the  Prince,  bulkily  lifting  himself  into  his 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  MIINE. 


297 


battle-saddle.  " Eeniember  the  dagger.  Hark!  the  trum- 
pet sounds  for  the  third  time.  Open,  warders!  Sound, 
trumpeters!  and  good  Saint  Bendigo  guard  the  right." 

But  Puffendorff,  the  trumpeter,  had  not  leisure  to  lift 
the  trumpet  to  his  lips :  when,  hark !  from  without  there 
came  another  note  of  another  clarion! — a  distant  note  at 
first,  then  swelling  fuller.  Presently,  in  brilliant  varia- 
tions, the  full  rich  notes  of  the  "  Huntsman's  Chorus " 
came  clearly  over  the  breeze ;  and  a  thousand  voices  of  the 
crowd  gazing  over  the  gate  exclaimed,  "A  champion!  a 
champion !  " 

And,  indeed,  a  champion  had  come.  Issuing  from  the 
forest  came  a  knight  and  squire :  the  knight  gracefully 
cantering  an  elegant  cream-coloured  Arabian  of  j^rodigious 
power- — the  squire  mounted  on  an  unpretending  grey  cob ; 
which,  nevertheless,  was  an  animal  of  considerable  strength 
and  sinew.  It  was  the  squire  who  blew  the  trumpet, 
through  the  bars  of  his  helmet;  the  knight's  visor  was 
completely  down.  A  small  prince's  coronet  of  gold,  from 
which  rose  three  pink  ostrich  feathers,  marked  the  war- 
rior's rank :  his  blank  shield  bore  no  cognisance.  A§  grace- 
fully poising  his  lance  he  rode  into  the  green  space  where 
the  Eowski's  tents  were  pitched,  the  hearts  of  all  present 
beat  with  anxiety,  and  the  poor  Prince  of  Cleves,  espe- 
cially, had  considerable  doubt  about  his  new  champion. 
"  So  slim  a  figure  as  that  can  never  compete  with  Donner- 
blitz,"  said  he,  moodily,  to  his  daughter;  "but  whoever 
he  be,  the  fellow  puts  a  good  face  on  it,  and  rides  like  a 
man.  See,  he  has  touched  the  Eowski's  shield  with  the 
point  of  his  lance !    By  Saint  Bendigo,  a  perilous  venture !  " 

The  unknown  knight  had  indeed  defied  the  Eowski  to 
the  death,  as  the  Prince  of  Cleves  remarked  from  the  bat- 
tlement where  h6  and  his  daughter  stood  to  witness  the 
combat;  and  so,  having  defied  his  enemy,  the  Incognito 
galloped  round  under  the  castle  wall,  bowing  elegantly  to 
the  lovely  Princess  there,  and  then  took  his  ground  and 
waited  for  the  foe.  His  armour  blazed  in  the  sunshine  as 
he  sat  there,  motionless,  on  his  cream-coloured  steed.  He 


298 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


looked  like  one  of  those  fairy  knights  one  has  read  of — one 
of  those  celestial  champions  who  decided  so  many  victories 
before  the  invention  of  gunpowder. 

The  Eowski's  horse  was  speedily  brought  to  the  door  of 
his  pavilion ;  and  that  redoubted  warrior,  blazing  in  a  suit 
of  magnificent  brass  armour,  clattered  into  his  saddle. 
Long  waves  of  blood-red  feathers  bristled  over  his  helmet, 
which  was  further  ornamented  by  two  huge  horns  of  the 
aurochs.  His  lance  was  painted  white  and  red,  and  he 
whirled  the  prodigious  beam  in  the  air  and  caught  it  with 
savage  glee.  He  laughed  when  he  saw  the  slim  form  of 
his  antagonist;  and  his  soul  rejoiced  to  meet  the  coming 
battle.  He  dug  his  spurs  into  the  enormous  horse  he  rode : 
the  enormous  horse  snorted,  and  squealed,  too,  with  fierce 
pleasure.  He  jerked  and  curvetted  him  with  a  brutal  play- 
fulness, and  after  a  few  minutes'  turning  and  wheeling, 
during  which  everybody  had  leisure  to  admire  the  perfec- 
tion of  his  equitation,  he  cantered  round  to  a  point  exactly 
opposite  his  enemy,  and  pulled  up  his  impatient  charger. 

The  old  Prince  on  the  battlement  was  so  eager  for  the 
combat,  that  he  seemed  quite  to  forget  the  danger  which 
menaced  himself,  should  his  slim  champion  be  discomfited 
by  the  tremendous  Knight  of  Donnerblitz.  "Go  it! said 
he,  flinging  his  truncheon  into  the  ditch ;  and  at  the  word, 
the  two  warriors  rushed  with  whirling  rapidity  at  each 
other. 

And  now  ensued  a  combat  so  terrible,  that  a  weak  female 
hand,  like  that  of  her  who  pens  this  tale  of  chivalry,  can 
never  hope  to  do  justice  to  the  terrific  theme.  You  have 
seen  two  engines  on  the  Great  Western  line  rush  past  each 
other  with  a  pealing  scream?  So  rapidly  did  the  two  war- 
riors gallop  towards  one  another;  the  feathers  of  either 
streamed  yards  behind  their  backs  as  they  converged. 
Their  shock  as  they  met  was  as  that  of  two  cannon-balls ; 
the  mighty  horses  trembled  and  reeled  with  the  concussion ; 
the  lance  aimed  at  the  Eowski's  helmet  bore  olf  the  coro- 
net, the  horns,  the  helmet  itself,  and  hurled  them  to  an  in- 
credible distance :  a  piece  of  the  Rowski's  left  ear  was  car- 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


299 


ried  off  on  the  point  of  the  nameless  warrior^  s  weapon. 
How  had  he  fared?  His  adversary's  weapon  had  glanced 
harmless  along  the  blank  surface  of  his  polished  buckler : 
and  the  victory  so  far  was  with  him. 

The  expression  of  the  Eowski's  face,  as,  bareheaded,  he 
glared  on  his  enemy  with  fierce  bloodshot  eyeballs,  was  one 
worthy  of  a  demon.  The  imprecatory  expressions  which 
he  made  use  of  can  never  be  copied  by  a  feminine  pen. 

His  opponent  magnanimously  declined  to  take  advantage 
of  the  opportunity  thus  offered  him  of  finishing  the  combat 
by  splitting  his  opponent's  skull  with  his  curtal-axe,  and, 
riding  back  to  his  starting-place,  bent  his  lance's  point  to 
the  ground,  in  token  that  he  would  wait  until  the  Count  of 
Eulenschreckenstein  was  helmeted  afresh. 

"Blessed  Bendigo!  "  cried  the  Prince,  "thou  art  a  gal- 
lant lance :  but  why  didst  not  rap  the  Schelm's  brain  out?  " 

"  Bring  me  a  fresh  helmet !  "  yelled  the  Eowski.  Another 
casque  was  brought  to  him  by  his  trembling  squire. 

As  soon  as  he  had  braced  it,  he  drew  his  great  flashing 
sword  from  his  side,  and  rushed  at  his  enemy,  roaring 
hoarsely  his  cry  of  battle.  The  unknown  knight's  sword 
was  unsheathed  in  a  moment,  and  at  the  next  the  two 
blades  were  clanking  together  the  dreadful  music  of  the 
combat ! 

The  Donnerblitz  wielded  his  with  his  usual  savageness 
and  activity.  It  whirled  round  his  adversary's  head  with 
frightful  rapidity.  Now  it  carried  away  a  feather  of  his 
plume ;  now  it  shore  off  a  leaf  of  his  coronet.  The  flail  of 
the  thresher  does  not  fall  more  swiftly  upon  the  corn.  For 
many  minutes  it  was  the  Unknown's  only  task  to  defend 
himself  from  the  tremendous  activity  of  the  enemy. 

But  even  the  Row  ski's  strength  would  slacken  after  ex- 
ertion. The  blows  began  to  fall  less  thick  anon,  and  the 
point  of  the  unknown  knight  began  to  make  dreadful  play. 
It  found  and  penetrated  every  joint  of  the  Donnerblitz  ar- 
mour. Now  it  nicked  him  in  the  shoulder,  where  the  vam- 
brace  was  buckled  to  the  corselet ;  now  it  bored  a  shrewd 
hole  under  the  light  brassart,  and  blood  followed;  now, 


300 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


with  fatal  dexterity,  it  darted  through  the  visor,  and  came 
back  to  the  recover  deeply  tinged  with  blood.  A  scream 
of  rage  followed  the  last  thrust ;  and  no  wonder : — it  had 
penetrated  the  Eowski's  left  eye. 

His  blood  was  trickling  through  a  dozen  orifices ;  he  was 
almost  choking  in  his  helmet  with  loss  of  breath,  and  loss 
of  blood,  and  rage.  Gasping  with  fury,  he  drew  back  his 
horse,  flung  his  great  sword  at  his  opponent's  head,  and 
once  more  plunged  at  him,  wielding  his  curtal-axe. 

Then  you  should  have  seen  the  unknown  knight  employ- 
ing the  same  dreadful  weapon !  Hitherto  he  had  been  on 
his  defence ;  now  he  began  the  attack ;  and  the  gleaming 
axe  whirred  in  his  hand  like  a  reed,  but  descended  like  a 
thunderbolt!  "Yield!  yield!  Sir  Eowski,"  shouted  he  in 
a  calm  clear  voice. 

A  blow  dealt  madly  at  his  head  was  the  reply.  'Twas 
the  last  blow  that  the  Count  of  Eulenschreckenstein  ever 
struck  in  battle !  The  curse  was  on  his  lips  as  the  crush- 
ing steel  descended  into  his  brain,  and  split  it  in  two.  He 
rolled  like  a  log  from  his  horse :  his  enemy's  knee  was  in  a 
moment  on  his  chest,  and  the  dagger  of  mercy  at  his  throat, 
as  the  knight  once  more  called  upon  him  to  yield. 

But  there  was  no  answer  from  within  the  helmet.  When 
it  was  withdrawn,  the  teeth  were  crunched  together ;  the 
mouth  that  should  have  spoken,  grinned  a  ghastly  silence : 
one  eye  still  glared  with  hate  and  fury,  but  it  was  glazed 
with  the  film  of  death ! 

The  red  orb  of  the  sun  was  just  then  dipping  into  the 
Ehine.  The  unknown  knight,  vaulting  once  more  into  his 
saddle,  made  a  graceful  obeisance  to  the  Prince  of  Cleves 
and  his  daughter,  without  a  word,  and  galloped  back  into 
the  forest,  whence  he  had  issued  an  hour  before  sunset. 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


301 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  MARRIAGE. 

The  consternation  which  ensued  on  the  death  of  the 
Eowski  speedily  sent  all  his  camp-followers,  army,  etc.,  to 
the  right  about.  They  struck  their  tents  at  the  tirst  news 
of  his  discomfiture ;  and  each  man  laying  hold  of  what  he 
could,  the  whole  of  the  gallant  force  which  had  marched 
under  his  banner  in  the  morning  had  disappeared  ere  the 
sun  rose. 

On  that  night,  as  it  may  be  imagined,  the  gates  of  the 
Castle  of  Cleves  were  not  shut.  Everybody  was  free  to 
come  in.  Wine-butts  were  broached  in  all  the  courts; 
the  pickled  meat  prepared  in  such  lots  for  the  siege  was 
distributed  among  the  people,  who  crowded  to  congratu- 
late their  beloved  sovereign  on  his  victory;  and  the 
Prince,  as  was  customary  with  that  good  man,  who 
never  lost  an  opportunity  of  giving  a  dinner-party,  had  a 
splendid  entertainment  made  ready  for  the  upper  classes, 
the  whole  concluding  with  a  tasteful  display  of  fireworks. 

In  the  midst  of  these  entertainments,  our  old  friend  the 
Count  of  Hombourg  arrived  at  the  castle.  The  stalwart 
old  warrior  swore  by  Saint  Bugo  that  he  was  grieved  the 

-  killing  of  the  Eowski  had  been  taken  out  of  his  hand.  The 
laughing  Cleves  vowed  by  Saint  Bendigo,  Hombourg  could 

-  never  have  finished  off  his  enemy  so  satisfactorily  as  the 
unknown  knight  had  just  done. 

But  who  was  he?  was  the  question  which  now  agitated 
the  bosom  of  these  two  old  nobles.  How  to  find  him — 
how  to  reward  the  champion  and  restorer  of  the  honour 
and  happiness  of  Cleves?  They  agreed  over  supper  that 
he  should  be  sought  for  everywhere.  Beadles  were  sent 
round  the  principal  cities  within  fifty  miles,  and  the  de- 
scription of  the  knight  advertised  in  the  Journal  de  Franc 


302 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


fort  and  the  Allgemeine  Zeitung.  The  hand  of  the  Princess 
Helen  was  solemnly  offered  to  him  in  these  advertisements, 
with  the  reversion  of  the  Prince  of  devests  splendid  though 
somewhat  dilapidated  property. 

^^But  we  don't  know  him,  my  dear  ]3apa,'^  faintly  ejacu- 
lated that  young  lady.  "  Some  impostor  may  come  in  a 
suit  of  plain  armour,  and  pretend  that  he  was  the  cham- 
pion who  overcame  the  Eowski  (a  prince  who  had  his  faults 
certainly,  but  whose  attachment  for  me  I  can  never  forget)  ; 
and  how  are  you  to  say  whether  he  is  the  real  knight  or 
not?  There  are  so  many  deceivers  in  this  world,"  added 
the  Princess,  in  tears,  "  that  one  can't  be  too  cautious  now.'' 
The  fact  is,  that  she  was  thinking  of  the  desertion  of  Otto 
in  the  morning;  by  which  instance  of  faithlessness  her 
heart  was  well-nigh  broken. 

As  for  that  youth  and  his  comrade  Wolfgang,  to  the 
astonishment  of  everybody  at  their  impudence,  they  came 
to  the  archers'  mess  that  night,  as  if  nothing  had  happened ; 
got  their  supper,  partaking  both  of  meat  and  drink  most 
plentifully ;  fell  asleep  when  their  comrades  began  to  de- 
scribe the  events  of  the  day,  and  the  admirable  achieve- 
ments of  the  unknown  warrior;  and,  turning  into  their 
hammocks,  did  not  appear  on  parade  in  the  morning  until 
twenty  minutes  after  the  names  were  called. 

When  the  Prince  of  Cleves  heard  of  the  return  of  these 
deserters,  he  was  in  a  towering  passion.  "Where  were 
you,  fellows,"  shouted  he,  "during  the  time  my  castle  was 
at  its  utmost  need?  " 

Otto  replied,  "  We  were  out  on  particular  business." 

"  Does  a  soldier  leave  his  post  on  the  day  of  battle,  sir?  " 
exclaimed  the  Piince.  "  You  know  the  reward  of  such — 
Death!  and  death  you  merit.  But  you  are  a  soldier  only 
of  yesterday,  and  yesterday's  victory  has  made  me 
merciful.  Hanged  you  shall  not  be,  as  you  merit — only 
flogged,  both  of  you.  Parade  the  men.  Colonel  Tickel- 
stern,  after  breakfast,  and  give  these  scoundrels  five  hun- 
dred apiece." 

You  should  have  seen  how  young  Otto  bounded,  whea 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


303 


this  information  was  thus  abruptly  conveyed  to  him. 
"  Flog  me  ! cried  he.    "  Flog  Otto  of  " 

"Not  so,  my  father,"  said  the  Princess  Helen,  who  had 
been  standing  by  during  the  conversation,  and  who  had 
looked  at  Otto  all  the  while  with  the  most  ineffable  scorn. 
"  Not  so :  although  these  persons  have  forgotten  their  duty 
(she  laid  a  particularly  sarcastic  emphasis  on  the  word  per- 
sons), "we  have  had  no  need  of  their  services,  and  have 
luckily  found  others  more  faithful.  You  promised  your 
daughter  a  boon,  papa :  it  is  the  pardon  of  these  two  per- 
sons. Let  them  go,  and  quit  a  service  they  have  disgraced : 
a  mistress — that  is,  a  master — they  have  deceived.'' 

"Drum  'em  out  of  the  castle,  Tickelstern;  strip  their 
uniforms  from  their  backs,  and  never  let  me  hear  of  the 
scoundrels  again. "  So  saying,  the  old  Prince  angrily  turned 
on  his  heel  to  breakfast,  leaving  the  two  young  men  to  the 
fun  and  derision  of  their  surrounding  comrades. 

The  noble  Count  of  Hombourg,  who  was  taking  his  usual 
airing  on  the  ramparts  before  breakfast,  came  up  at  this 
juncture,  and  asked  what  was  the  row?  Otto  blushed 
when  he  saw  him,  and  turned  away  rapidly ;  but  the  Count, 
too,  catching  a  glimpse  of  him,  with  a  hundred  exclama- 
tions of  joyful  surprise  seized  upon  the  lad,  hugged  him 
to  his  manly  breast,  kissed  him  most  affectionately,  and 
almost  burst  into  tears  as  he  embraced  him.  For,  in  sooth, 
the  good  Count  had  thought  his  godson  long  ere  this  at  the 
bottom  of  the  silver  Rhine. 

The  Prince  of  Cleves,  who  had  come  to  the  breakfast- 
parlour  window  (to  invite  his  guest  to  enter,  as  the  tea  was 
made),  beheld  this  strange  scene  from  the  window,  as  did 
the  lovely  tea-maker  likewise,  with  breathless  and  beautiful 
agitation.  The  old  Count  and  the  archer  strolled  up  and 
down  the  battlements  in  deep  conversation.  By  the  ges- 
tures of  surprise  and  delight  exhibited  by  the  former,  'twas 
easy  to  see  the  young  archer  was  conveying  some  very 
strange  and  pleasing  news  to  him ;  though  the  nature  of 
the  conversation  was  not  allowed  to  transpire. 

"A  godson  of  mine,"  said  the  noble  Count,  when  inter- 


i 


304  A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 

rogated  over  his  muffins.  I  know  his  family ;  worthy- 
people;  sad  scapegrace;  ran  away;  parents  longing  for 
him;  glad  you  did  not  flog  him;  devil  to  pay/^  and  so 
forth.  The  Count  was  a  man  of  few  words,  and  told  his 
tale  in  this  brief  artless  manner.  But  why,  at  its  conclu- 
sion, did  the  gentle  Helen  leave  the  room,  her  eyes  filled 
with  tears?  She  left  the  room  once  more  to  kiss  a  certain 
lock  of  yellow  hair  she  had  pilfered.  A  dazzling  delicious 
thought,  a  strange  wild  hope,  arose  in  her  soul ! 

When  she  appeared  again,  she  made  some  side-handed  in- 
quiries regarding  Otto  (with  that  gentle  artifice  oft  employed 
by  women) ;  but  he  was  gone.  He  and  his  companion  were 
gone.  The  Count  of  Hombourg  had  likewise  taken  his  de- 
parture, under  pretext  of  particular  business.  How  lonely 
the  vast  castle  seemed  to  Helen,  now  that  he  was  no  longer 
there.  The  transactions  of  the  last  few  days ;  the  beauti- 
ful archer-boy ;  the  offer  from  the  Eowski  (always  an  event 
in  a  young  lady's  life)  ;  the  siege  of  the  castle;  the  death 
of  her  truculent  admirer :  all  seemed  like  a  fevered  dream 
to  her :  all  was  passed  away,  and  had  left  no  trace  behind. 
No  trace? — yes!  one:  a  little  insignificant  lock  of  golden 
hair,  over  which  the  young  creature  wept  so  much  that  she 
put  it  out  of  curl;  passing  hours  and  hours  in  the  summer- 
house  w^here  the  operation  had  been  performed. 

On  the  second  day  (it  is  my  belief  she  would  have  gone 
into  a  consumption  and  died  of  languor,  if  the  event  had 
been  delayed  a  day  longer)  a  messenger,  with  a  trumpet, 
brought  a  letter  in  haste  to  the  Prince  of  Cleves,  who  was, 
as  usual,  taking  refreshment.  "  To  the  High  and  Mighty 
Prince,''  etc.,  the  letter  ran.  "The  Champion  who  had 
the  honour  of  engaging  on  Wednesday  last  with  his  late 
Excellency  the  Eowski  of  Donnerblitz,  presents  his  com- 
pliments to  H.S.H.  the  Prince  of  Cleves.  Through  the 
medium  of  the  public  prints  the  C.  has  been  made  ac- 
quainted with  the  flattering  proposal  of  His  Serene  High- 
ness relative  to  a  union  between  himself  (the  Champion) 
and  Her  Serene  Highness  the  Princess  Helen  of  Cleves. 
The  Champion  accepts  with  pleasure  that  polite  invitation, 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE.  305 


and  will  have  the  honour  of  waitmg  upon  the  Prince  and 
Princess  of  Cleves  about  half-an-hour  after  the  receipt  of 
this  letter." 

"Tol  lol  de  rol,  girl,"  shouted  the  Prince  with  heartfelt 
joy.  (Have  you  not  remarked,  dear  friend,  how  often  in 
novel-books,  and  on  the  stage,  joy  is  announced  by  the 
above  burst  of  insensate  monosyllables?)  ^^Tol  lol  de  rol. 
Don  thy  best  kirtle,  child ;  thy  husband  will  be  here  anon." 
And  Helen  retired  to  arrange  her  toilet  for  this  awful  event 
in  the  life  of  a  young  woman.  When  she  returned,  attired 
to  welcome  her  defender,  her  young  cheek  was  as  pale  as 
the  white  satin  slip  and  orange  sprigs  she  wore. 

She  was  scarce  seated  on  the  dais  by  her  father's  side, 
when  a  huge  flourish  of  trumpets  from  without  proclaimed 
the  arrival  of  the  Cliaminon,  Helen  felt  quite  sick:  a 
draught  of  ether  was  necessary  to  restore  her  tranquillity. 

The  great  door  was  flung  open.  He  entered, — the  same 
tall  warrior,  slim  and  beautiful,  blazing  in  shining  steel. 
He  approached  the  Prince's  throne,  supported  on  each  side 
by  a  friend  likewise  in  armour.  He  knelt  gracefully  oa 
one  knee. 

"I  come,"  said  he,  in  a  voice  trembling  with  emotion, 
"  to  claim,  as  per  advertisement,  the  hand  of  the  lovely 
Lady  Helen."  And  he  held  out  a  copy  of  the  Allgemeine 
Zeititng  as  he  spoke. 

"Art  thou  noble.  Sir  Knight?"  asked  the  Prince  of 
Cleves. 

"As  noble  as  yourself,"  answered  the  kneeling  steel. 
"  Who  answers  for  thee?  " 

"  I,  Karl,  Margrave  of  Godesberg,  his  father !  "  said  the 
knight  on  the  right  hand,  lifting  up  his  visor. 

"And  I — Ludwig,  Count  of  Hombourg,  his  godfather!'* 
said  the  knight  on  the  left,  doing  likewise. 

The  kneeling  knight  lifted  up  his  visor  now,  and  looked 
on  Helen. 

"  1  knew  it  wasy^^  said  she,  and  fainted  as  she  saw  Otto 
the  Archer. 

But  she  was  soon  brought  to,  gentles,  as  I  have  small 


306 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


need  to  tell  ye.  In  a  very  few  days  after,  a  great  marriage 
took  place  at  Cleves,  under  the  patronage  of  Saint  Bugo, 
Saint  Buffo,  and  Saint  Bendigo.  After  the  marriage  cere- 
mony, the  happiest  and  handsomest  pair  in  the  world  drove 
off  in  a  chaise-and-four,  to  pass  the  honeymoon  at  Kissin- 
gen.  The  Lady  Theodora,  whom  we  left  locked  up  in  her 
convent  a  long  while  since,  was  prevailed  upon  to  come 
back  to  Godesberg,  where  she  was  reconciled  to  her  hus- 
band. Jealous  of  her  daughter-in-law,  she  idolised  her 
son,  and  spoiled  all  her  little  grandchildren.  And  so  all 
are  happy,  and  my  simple  tale  is  done. 

I  read  it  in  an  old  old  book,  in  a  mouldy  old  circulating 
library.  'Twas  written  in  the  French  tongue,  by  the  noble 
Alexandre  Dumas;  but  'tis  probable  that  he  stole  it  from 
some  other,  and  that  the  other  had  filched  it  from  a  former 
tale-teller.  For  nothing  is  new  under  the  sun.  Things 
die  and  are  reproduced  only.  And  so  it  is  that  the  forgot- 
ten tale  of  the  great  Dumas  reappears  under  the  signature 
of  Theresa  MacWhirter. 

Whistlebinkie,  N.  B.  :  December  1, 


SOME  PASSAGES 


IN  THE 


LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN, 


SOME  PASSAGES 

IN  THE 

LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


CHAPTER  I 

"TRUTH  IS  STRANGE,  STRANGER  THAN  FICTION." 

I  THINK  it  but  right  that  in  making  my  appearance  be- 
fore the  public  I  should  at  once  acquaint  them  with  my 
titles  and  name.  My  card,  as  I  leave  it  at  the  houses  of 
the  nobility,  my  friends,  is  as  follows : — 


MAJOM  GOLIAH  O'GEADY  GAEAGAN,  E.E.I.aS. 
Commanding  Battaliori  of 

Irregula/r  Horse, 
AHMEDNUGGAB. 


Seeing,  I  say,  this  simple  visiting-ticket,  the  world  will 
avoid  any  of  those  awkward  mistakes  as  to  my  person, 
which  have  been  so  frequent  of  late.  There  has  been  no 
end  to  the  blunders  regarding  this  humble  title  of  mine,  and 
the  confusion  thereby  created.  When  I  published  my  vol- 
ume of  poems,  for  instance,  the  Morning  Post  newspaper 
remarked  "  that  the  Lyrics  of  the  Heart,  by  Miss  Gahagan, 
may  be  ranked  among  the  sweetest  flowerets  of  the  present 


310 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAK 


spring  season."  The  Quarterly  Review,  commenting  upon 
my  "  Observations  on  the  Pons  Asinorum (4to.  London, 
1836),  called  me  "Doctor  Gahagan,"  and  so  on.  It  was 
time  to  put  an  end  to  these  mistakes,  and  I  have  taken  the 
above  simple  remedy. 

I  was  urged  to  it  by  a  very  exalted  personage.  Dining 
in  August  last  at  the  palace  of  the  T-l-r-es  at  Paris,  the 
lovely  young  Duch-ss  of  Orl — ns  (who,  though  she  does  not 
speak  English,  understands  it  as  well  as  I  do)  said  to  me 
in  the  softest  Teutonic,  "  Lieher  Herr  Major,  hahen  sie  den 
Ahmednuggarischen-jdger-battalion  gelassen  ?        "  Wmmm 

den?^^  said  I,  quite  astonished  at  her  R — 1  H  ss's 

question.  The  P — cess  then  spoke  of  some  trifle  from  my 
pen,  which  was  simply  signed  Goliah  Gahagan. 

There  was,  unluckily,  a  dead  silence  as  H.  E.  H.  put 
this  question. 

"  Comment  done  ?  "  said  H.  M.  Lo-is  Ph-l-ppe,  looking 
gravely  at  Count  Mole;  ^' le  cher  Major  a  quitte  Varmee! 

Nicolas  done  sera  maitre  de  Vlnde!^^    H.  M  and  the 

Pr —  M-n-ster  pursued  their  conversation  in  a  low  tone,  and 
left  me,  as  may  be  imagined,  in  a  dreadful  state  of  confu- 
sion. I  blushed,  and  stuttered,  and  murmured  out  a  few 
incoherent  words  to  explain — but  it  would  not  do — I  could 
not  recover  my  equanimity  during  the  course  of  the  dinner; 
and  while  endeavouring  to  help  an  English  duke,  my  neigh- 
bour, to  poulet  a  V Austerlitz,  fairly  sent  seven  mushrooms 
and  three  large  greasy  croutes  over  his  whiskers  and  shirt- 
frill.    Another  laugh  at  my  expense.    "  Ah  !  M.  le  Major,'^ 

said  the  Q          of  the  B-lg — ns,  archly,  "vous  n' aurez 

jamais  votre  brevet  de  Colonel.^^    Her  M  y's  joke  will  be 

better  understood  when  I  state  that  his  grace  is  the  brother 
of  a  minister. 

I  am  not  at  liberty  to  violate  the  sanctity  of  private  life 
by  mentioning  the  names  of  the  parties  concerned  in  this 
little  anecdote.  I  only  wish  to  have  it  understood  that  I 
am  a  gentleman,  and  live  at  least  in  decent  society.  Ver^ 
hum  sat. 

But  to  be  serious.    I  am  obliged  always  to  write  the 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


311 


name  of  Goliah  in  full,  to  distinguish  me  from  my  brother, 
Gregory  Gahagan,  who  was  also  a  major  (in  the  King^s 
service),  and  whom  I  killed  in  a  duel,  as  the  public  most 
likely  knows.  Poor  Greg. — a  very  trivial  dispute  was  the 
cause  of  our  quarrel,  which  never  would  have  originated 
but  for  the  similarity  of  our  names.  The  circumstance  was 
this : — I  had  been  lucky  enough  to  render  the  IsTawaub  of 
Lucknow  some  trifling  service  (in  the  notorious  affair  of 
Chopras jee  Muckjee),  and  his  highness  sent  down  a  gold 
toothpick-case  directed  to  Captain  G.  Gahagan,  which  I  of 
course  thought  was  for  me :  my  brother  madly  claimed  it; 
we  fought,  and  the  consequence  was,  that  in  about  three 
minutes  he  received  a  slash  in  the  right  side  (cut  6),  which 
effectually  did  his- business : — he  was  a  good  swordsman 
enough — I  was  the  best  in  the  universe.  The  most  ridicu- 
lous part  of  the  affair  is,  that  the  toothpick-case  was  his, 
after  all — he  had  left  it  on  the  Nawaub's  table  at  tiffin.  I 
can't  conceive  what  madness  prompted  him  to  fight  about 
such  a  paltry  bauble;  he  had  much  better  have  yielded  it 
at  once,  when  he  saw  I  was  determined  to  have  it.  From 
this  slight  specimen  of  my  adventures,  the  reader  will  per- 
ceive that  my  life  has  been  one  of  no  ordinary  interest; 
and,  in  fact,  I  may  say  that  I  have  led  a  more  remarkable 
life  than  any  man  in  the  service — I  have  been  at  more 
pitched  battles,  led  more  forlorn  hopes,  had  more  success 
among  the  fair  sex,  drunk  harder,  read  more,  and  been  a 
handsomer  man  than  any  officer  now  serving  her  Majesty. 

When  I  first  went  to  India  in  1802,  I  was  a  raw  cornet 
of  seventeen,  with  blazing  red  hair,  six  feet  seven  in  height, 
athletic  at  all  kinds  of  exercises,  owing  money  to  my  tailor 
and  everybody  else  who  would  trust  me,  possessing  an  Irish 
brogue,  and  my  full  pay  of  120Z.  a  year.  I  need  not  say 
that  with  all  these  advantages  I  did  that  which  a  number 
of  clever  fellows  have  done  before  me — I  fell  in  love,  and 
proposed  to  marry  immediately. 

But  how  to  overcome  the  difficulty? — It  is  true  that  I 

loved  Julia  Jowler — loved  her  to  madness;  but  her  father 

intended  her  for  a  member  of  council  at  least,  and  not  for 
J4 — Vol.  ig 


312 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


a  beggarly  Irish  ensign.  It  was,  however,  my  fate  to  make 
the  passage  to  India  (on  board  of  the  Samuel  Snob  East 
Indiaman,  Captain  Duffy)  with  this  lovely  creature,  and 
my  misfortune  instantaneously  to  fall  in  love  with  her. 
We  were  not  out  of  the  Channel  before  I  adored  her,  wor- 
shipped the  deck  which  she  trod  upon,  kissed  a  thousand 
times  the  cuddy-chair  on  which  she  used  to  sit.  The  same 
madness  fell  on  every  man  in  the  ship.  The  two  mates 
fought  about  her  at  the  Cape — the  surgeon,  a  sober,  pious 
Scotchman,  from  disappointed  affection,  took  so  dreadfully 
to  drinking  as  to  threaten  spontaneous  combustion — and 
old  Colonel  Lily  white,  carrying  his  wife  and  seven  daugh- 
ters to  Bengal,  swore  that  he  would  have  a  divorce  from 
Mrs.  L.,  and  made  an  attempt  at  suicide — the  captain  him- 
self told  me,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  that  he  hated  his  hith- 
erto-adored Mrs.  Duff 3^,  although  he  had  had  nineteen  chil- 
dren by  her. 

We  used  to  call  her  the  witch — there  was  magic  in  her 
beauty  and  in  her  voice.  I  was  spell- bound  when  I  looked 
at  her,  and  stark-staring  mad  when  she  looked  at  me !  Oh, 
lustrous  black  eyes ! — Oh,  glossy  night-black  ringlets ! — Oh, 
lips ! — Oh,  dainty  frocks  of  white  muslin ! — Oh,  tiny  kid 
slippers ! — though  old  and  gouty,  Gahagan  sees  you  still !  I 
recollect  off  Ascension,  she  looked  at  me  in  her  particular 
way  one  day  at  dinner,  just  as  I  happened  to  be  blowing  on 
a  piece  of  scalding  hot  green  fat.  I  was  stupefied  at  once 
— I  thrust  the  entire  morsel  (about  half  a  pound)  into  my 
mouth.  I  made  no  attempt  to  swallow  or  to  masticate  it, 
but  left  it  there  for  many  minutes  burning,  burning!  I 
had  no  skin  to  my  palate  for  seven  weeks  after,  and  lived 
on  rice-water  during  the  rest  of  the  voyage.  The  anecdote 
is  trivial,  but  it  shows  the  power  of  Julia  Jowler  over  me. 

The  writers  of  marine  novels  have  so  exhausted  the  sub- 
ject of  storms,  shipwrecks,  mutinies,  engagements,  sea- 
sickness, and  so  forth,  that  (although  I  have  experienced 
each  of  these  in  many  varieties)  I  think  it  quite  unneces- 
sary to  recount  such  trifling  adventures;  suffice  it  to  say, 
that  during  our  five  months'  trajet,  my  mad  passion  for 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


313 


Julia  daily  increased;  so  did  the  captain's  and  the  sur- 
geon's; so  did  Colonel  Lilywhite's;  so  did  the  doctor's, 
the  mate's — that  of  most  part  of  the  passengers,  and  a 
considerable  number  of  the  crew.  For  myself,  I  swore — 
ensign  as  I  was — I  would  win  her  for  my  wife;  I  vowed 
that  I  would  make  her  glorious  with  my  sword — that  as 
soon  as  I  had  made  a  favourable  impression  on  my  com- 
manding officer,  (which  I  did  not  doubt  to  create,)  I  would 
lay  open  to  him  the  state  of  my  affections,  and  demand  his 
daughter's  hand.  With  such  sentimental  outpourings  did 
our  voyage  continue  and  conclude. 

We  landed  at  the  Sunderbunds  on  a  grilling  hot  day  in 
December,  1802,  and  then  for  the  moment  Julia  and  I  sepa- 
rated. She  was  carried  off  to  her  papa's  arms  in  a  palan- 
keen, surrounded  by  at  least  forty  hookahbadars;  whilst 
the  poor  cornet,  attended  but  by  two  dandies  and  a  solitary 
beasty,  (by  which  unnatural  name  these  blackamoors  are 
called,)  made  his  way  humbly  to  join  the  regiment  at  head- 
quarters. 

The  — th  regiment  of  Bengal  Cavalry,  then  under  the 
command  of  Lieut. -Colonel  Julius  Jowler,  C.B.,  was  known 
throughout  Asia  and  Europe  by  the  proud  title  of  the  Bun- 
delcund  Invincibles — so  great  was  its  character  for  bravery, 
so  remarkable  were  its  services  in  that  delightful  district 
of  India.  Major  Sir  George  Gutch  was  next  in  command, 
and  Tom  Thrupp,  as  kind  a  fellow  as  ever  ran  a  Mahratta 
through  the  body,  was  second  Major.  We  were  on  the 
eve  of  that  remarkable  war  which  was  speedily  to  spread 
throughout  the  whole  of  India,  to  call  forth  the  valour  of  a 
Wellesley,  and  the  indomitable  gallantry  of  a  Gahagan; 
which  was  illustrated  by  our  victories  at  Ahmednuggar, 
(where  1  was  the  first  over  the  barricade  at  the  storming  of 
the  Pettah;)  at  Argaum,  where  I  slew  with  my  own  sword 
twenty-three  matchlock-men,  and  cut  a  dromedary  in  two; 
and  by  that  terrible  day  of  Assaye,  where  Wellesley  would 
have  been  beaten  but  for  me — me  alone ;  I  headed  nineteen 
charges  of  cavalry,  took  (aided  by  only  four  men  of  my 
own  troop)  seventeen  field-pieces,  killing  the  scoundrelly 


314 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


French  artillerymen;  on  that  day  I  had  eleven  elephants 
shot  under  me,  and  carried  away  Scindia's  nose-ring  with 
a  pistol-ball.  Wellesley  is  a  duke  and  a  marshal,  I  but  a 
simple  major  of  Irregulars.  Such  is  fortune  and  war!  But 
my  feelings  carry  me  away  from  my  narrative,  which  had 
better  proceed  with  more  order. 

On  arriving,  I  say,  at  our  barracks  at  Dum  Dum,  I  for 
the  first  time  put  on  the  beautiful  uniform  of  the  Invin- 
cibles;  a  light  blue  swallow-tailed  jacket  with  silver  lace 
and  wings,  ornamented  with  about  3,000  sugar-loaf  buttons, 
rhubarb-coloured  leather  inexpressibles,  (tights,)  and  red 
morocco  boots  with  silver  spurs  and  tassels,  set  off  to  ad- 
miration the  handsome  persons  of  the  officers  of  our  corps. 
We  wore  powder  in  those  days,  and  a  regulation  pig-tail  of 
seventeen  inches,  a  brass  helmet  surrounded  by  leopard- 
skin,  with  a  bear-skin  top  and  a  horse-tail  feather,  gave  the 
head  a  fierce  and  chivalrous  appearance,  which  is  far  more 
easily  imagined  than  described. 

Attired  in  this  magnificent  costume,  I  first  presented 
myself  before  Colonel  Jowler.  He  was  habited  in  a  man- 
ner precisely  similar,  but  not  being  more  than  five  feet  in 
height,  and  weighing  at  least  fifteen  stone,  the  dress  he 
wore  did  not  become  him  quite  so  much  as  slimmer  and 
taller  men.  Flanked  by  his  tall  majors,  Thrupp  and 
Gutch,  he  looked  like  a  stumpy  skittle-ball  between  two 
attenuated  skittles.  The  plump  little  Colonel  received  me 
with  vast  cordiality,  and  I  speedily  became  a  prime  favour- 
ite with  himself  and  the  other  officers  of  the  corps.  Jowler 
was  the  most  hospitable  of  men,  and,  gratifying  my  appe- 
tite and  my  love  together,  I  continually  ]Dartook  of  his  din- 
ners, and  feasted  on  the  sweet  presence  of  Julia. 

I  can  see  now,  what  I  would  not  and  could  not  perceive 
in  those  early  days,  that  this  Miss  Jowler,  on  whom  I  had 
lavished  my  first  and  warmest  love,  whom  I  had  endowed 
with  all  perfection  and  purity,  was  no  better  than  a  little 
impudent  flirt,  who  played  with  my  feelings,  because  dur- 
ing the  monotony  of  a  sea- voyage  she  had  no  other  toy  to 
play  with;  and  who  deserted  others  for  me,  and  me  for 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


315 


others,  just  as  her  whim  or  her  interest  might  guide  her. 
She  had  not  been  three  weeks  at  headquarters  when  half 
the  regiment  was  in  love  with  her.  Each  and  all  of  the 
candidates  had  some  favour  to  boast  of,  or  some  encourag- 
ing hopes  on  which  to  build.  It  was  the  scene  of  the 
Samuel  Snob  over  again,  only  heightened  in  interest  by  a 
number  of  duels.  The  following  list  will  give  the  reader  a 
notion  of  some  of  them : — 

1.  Cornet  Gahagan.  Ensign  Hicks,  of  the  Sappers  and 

Miners.  Hicks  received  a  ball  in 
his  jaw,  and  was  half  choked  by 
a  quantity  of  carroty  whisker 
forced  down  his  throat  with  the 
ball. 

2.  Capt.  Macgillicuddy,  B.N.I.  Cornet  Gahagan.  I  was  run  through 

the  body,  but  the  sword  passed 
between  the  ribs,  and  injured  me 
very  slightly. 

3.  Capt.  Macgillicuddy,  B.N.I.  Mr.  Mulligatawney,  B.C.S.,  Depu- 

ty-Assistant Vice  Sub-Controller 
of  the  Boggleywollah  Indigo 
grounds,  Ramgolly  branch. 

Macgillicuddy  should  have  stuck  to  sword' s-play,  and  he 
might  have  come  off  in  his  second  duel  as  well  as  in  his 
•first;  as  it  was,  the  civilian  placed  a  ball  and  a  part  of 
Mac's  gold  repeater  in  his  stomach.  A  remarkable  circum- 
stance attended  this  shot,  an  account  of  which  I  sent  home 
to  the  Philosophical  Transactions:  the  surgeon  had  ex- 
tracted the  ball,  and  was  going  oif,  thinking  that  all  was 
well,  when  the  gold  repeater  struck  thirteen  in  poor  Mac- 
gillicuddy's  abdomen.  I  suppose  that  the  works  must  have 
been  disarranged  in  some  way  by  the  bullet,  for  the  repeater 
was  one  of  Barraud's,  never  known  to  fail  before,  and  the 
circumstance  occurred  at  seven  o'clock."^ 

*  So  admirable  are  the  performances  of  these  watches,  which  will 
stand  in  any  climate,  that  I  repeatedly  heard  poor  Macgillicuddy 
relate  the  following  fact.  The  hours,  as  it  is  known,  count  in  Italy 
from  one  to  twenty -four:  the  day  Mac  landed  at  Na/ples  his  repeater 
rung  the  Italian  hours,  from  one  to  tioenty-foitr :  as  soon  as  he  crossed 
the  Alps  it  only  sounded  as  usual.-— G.  O'G.  G. 


316 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAK 


I  could  continue,  almost  ad  infinitum^  an  account  of  the 
wars  which  this  Helen  occasioned,  but  the  above  three 
specimens  will,  I  should  think,  satisfy  the  peaceful  reader. 
I  delight  not  in  scenes  of  blood,  Heaven  knows,  but  I  was 
compelled  in  the  course  of  a  few  weeks,  and  for  the  sake 
of  this  one  woman,  to  fight  nine  duels  myself,  and  I 
know  that  four  times  as  many  more  took  place  concerning 
her. 

I  forgot  to  say  that  Jowler's  wife  was  a  half-caste  woman, 
who  had  been  born  and  bred  entirely  in  India,  and  whom 
the  Colonel  had  married  from  the  house  of  her  mother,  a 
native.  There  were  some  singular  rumours  abroad  regard- 
ing this  latter  lady's  history — it  was  reported  that  she  wai. 
the  daughter  of  a  native  Eajah,  and  had  been  carried  off 
by  a  poor  English  subaltern  in  Lord  Olive's  time.  The 
young  man  was  killed  very  soon  after,  and  left  his  child 
with  its  mother.  The  black  Prince  forgave  his  daughter 
and  bequeathed  to  her  a  handsome  sum  of  money.  I  sup- 
pose that  it  was  on  this  account  that  Jowler  married  Mrs. 
J.,  a  creature  who  had  not,  I  do  believe,  a  Christian  name, 
or  a  single  Christian  quality — she  was  a  hideous,  bloated, 
yellow  creature,  with  a  beard,  black  teeth,  and  red  eyes : 
she  was  fat,  lying,  ugly,  and  stingy — she  hated  and  was 
hated  by  all  the  world,  and  by  her  jolly  husband  as  de- 
voutly as  by  any  other.  She  did  not  ]3ass  a  month  in  the 
year  with  him,  but  spent  most  of  her  time  with  her  native 
friends.  I  wonder  how  she  could  have  given  birth  to  so 
lovely  a  creature  as  her  daughter.  This  woman  was  of 
course  with  the  Colonel  when  Julia  arrived,  and  the  spice 
of  the  devil  in  her  daughter's  composition  was  most  care- 
fully nourished  and  fed  by  her.  If  Julia  had  been  a  flirt 
before,  she  was  a  downright  jilt  now;  she  set  the  whole 
cantonment  by  the  ears;  she  made  wives  jealous  and  hus- 
bands miserable;  she  caused  all  those  duels  of  which  I 
have  discoursed  already,  and  yet  such  was  the  fascination 
of  THE  WITCH  that  I  still  thought  her  an  angel.  I  made 
court  to  the  nasty  mother  in  order  to  be  near  the  daughter; 
and  I  listened  untiringly  to  Jowler' s  interminable  dull 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


317 


stories,  because  I  was  occupied  all  the  time  in  watching  the 
graceful  movements  of  Miss  Julia. 

Bat  the  trumpet  of  war  was  soon  ringing  in  our  ears; 
and  on  the  battle-field  Gahagan  is  a  man !  The  Bundelcund 
Invincibles  received  orders  to  march,  and  Jowler,  Hector- 
like, donned  his  helmet,  and  prepared  to  part  from  his 
Andromache.  And  now  arose  his  perplexity:  what  must 
be  done  with  his  daughter,  his  Julia?  He  knew  his  wife's 
peculiarities  of  living,  and  did  not  much  care  to  trust  his 
daughter  to  her  keeping;  but  in  vain  he  tried  to  find  her 
an  asylum  among  the  respectable  ladies  of  his  regiment. 
Lady  Gutch  offered  to  receive  her,  but  would  have  nothing 
to  do  with  Mrs.  Jowler;  the  surgeon's  wife,  Mrs.  Saw- 
bone,  would  have  neither  mother  nor  daughter;  there  was 
no  help  for  it,  Julia  and  her  mother  must  have  a  house 
together,  and  Jowler  knew  that  his  wife  would  fill  it  wdth 
her  odious  blackamoor  friends. 

I  could  not,  however,  go  forth  satisfied  to  the  campaign 
until  I  learned  from  Julia  my  fate.  I  watched  twenty  op- 
portunities to  see  her  alone,  and  wandered  about  the  Colo- 
nel's bungalow  as  an  informer  does  about  a  public-house, 
marking  the  incomings  and  the  outgoings  of  the  family, 
and  longing  to  seize  the  moment  when  Miss  Jowler,  un- 
biassed by  her  mother  or  her  pa^Da,  might  listen,  perhaps, 
to  my  eloquence,  and  melt  at  the  tale  of  my  love. 

But  it  would  not  do — old  Jowler  seemed  to  have  taken  all 
of  a  sudden  to  such  a  fit  of  domesticity,  that  there  was  no 
finding  him  out  of  doors,  and  his  rhubarb-coloured  wife  (I 
believe  that  her  skin  gave  the  first  idea  of  our  regimental 
breeches),  who  before  had  been  gadding  ceaselessly  abroad, 
and  poking  her  broad  nose  into  every  menage  in  the  canton- 
ment, stopped  faithfully  at  home  with  her  spouse.  My 
only  chance  was  to  beard  the  old  couple  in  their  den,  and 
ask  them  at  once  for  their  cuh. 

So  I  called  one  day  at  tiffin: — old  Jowler  was  always 
happy  to  have  my  company  at  this  meal;  it  amused  him, 
he  said,  to  see  me  drink  Hodgson's  pale  ale  (I  drank  two 
hundred  and  thirty- four  dozen  the  first  year  I  was  in  Ben- 


318  THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAK 


gal) — and  it  was  no  small  piece  of  fun,  certainly,  to  see  old 
Mrs.  Jowler  attack  the  currie-bhaut; — she  was  exactly  the 
colour  of  it,  as  I  have  had  already  the  honour  to  remark, 
and  she  swallowed  the  mixture  with  a  gusto  which  was 
never  equalled,  except  by  my  poor  friend  Dando,  a  apropos 
d^huitres.  She  consumed  the  first  three  platefuls,  with  a 
fork  and  spoon,  like  a  Christian;  but  as  she  warmed  to  her 
work,  the  old  hag  would  throw  away  her  silver  implements, 
and  dragging  the  dishes  towards  her,  go  to  work  with  her 
hands,  flip  the  rice  into  her  mouth  with  her  fingers,  and 
stow  away  a  quantity  of  eatables  sufficient  for  a  sepoy  com- 
pany. But  why  do  I  diverge  from  the  main  point  of  my 
story? 

Julia,  then,  Jowler,  and  Mrs.  J.,  were  at  luncheon:  the 
dear  girl  was  in  the  act  to  sdhler  a  glass  of  Hodgson  as  I 
entered.  "  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Gagin?  "  said  the  old  hag, 
leeringly.  "  Eat  a  bit  o'  currie-bhaut " — and  she  thrust  the 
dish  towards  me,  securing  a  heap  as  it  passed.  "  What, 
Gagy  my  boy,  how  do,  how  do?"  said  the  fat  colonel. 
"What,  run  through  the  body? — got  well  again — have 
some  Hodgson — run  through  your  body  too ! — and  at  this, 
I  may  say,  coarse  joke  (alluding  to  the  fact  that  in  these 
hot  climates  the  ale  oozes  out  as  it  were  from  the  pores  of 
the  skin,)  old  Jowler  laughed:  a  host  of  swarthy  chobdars, 
kitmatgars,  sices,  consomers,  and  bobbychies  laughed  too, 
as  they  provided  me,  unasked,  with  the  grateful  fluid. 
Swallowing  six  tumblers  of  it,  I  paused  nervously  for  a 
moment,  and  then  said — 

"Bobbachy,  consomah,  bally baloo  hoga.'^ 

The  black  ruffians  took  the  hint,  and  retired. 

"Colonel  and  Mrs.  Jowler,"  said  I  solemnly,  "we  are 
alone;  and  you.  Miss  Jowler,  you  are  alone  too;  that  is — I 
mean — I  take  this  opportunity  to — (another  glass  of  ale  if 
you  please,) — to  express,  once  for  all,  before  departing  on 
a  dangerous  campaign" — (Julia  turned  pale) — "before  en- 
tering, I  say,  upon  a  war  which  may  stretch  in  the  dust  my 
high-raised  hopes  and  me,  to  express  my  hopes  while  life 
still  remains  to  me,  and  to  declare  in  the  face  of  heaven, 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAK  319 


earth,  and  Colonel  Jowler,  that  I  love  you,  Julia ! "  The 
colonel,  astonished,  let  fall  a  steel  fork,  which  stuck  quiv- 
ering for  some  minutes  in  the  calf  of  my  leg;  but  I  heeded 
not  the  paltry  interruption.  "  Yes,  by  yon  bright  heaven," 
continued  I,  "  I  love  you,  Julia !  I  respect  my  commander, 
I  esteem  your  excellent  and  beauteous  mother;  tell  me,  be- 
fore I  leave  you,  if  I  may  hope  for  a  return  of  my  affection. 
Say  that  you  love  me,  and  I  will  do  such  deeds  in  this  com- 
ing war,  as  shall  make  you  proud  of  the  name  of  your 
Gahagan." 

The  old  woman,  as  I  delivered  these  touching  words, 
stared,  snapped,  and  ground  her  teeth,  like  an  enraged 
monkey.  Julia  was  now  red,  now  white;  the  colonel 
stretched  forward,  took  the  fork  out  of  the  calf  of  my  leg, 
wiped  it,  and  then  seized  a  bundle  of  letters  which  I  had 
remarked  by  his  side. 

"A  cornet!"  said  he,  in  a  voice  choking  with  emotion; 
"a  pitiful,  beggarly  Irish  cornet  aspire  to  the  hand  of  Julia 
Jowler!  Gag — Gahagan,  are  you  mad,  or  laughing  at  us? 
Look  at  these  letters,  young  man,  at  these  letters,  I  say — 
one  hundred  and  twenty-four  epistles  from  every  part  of 
India  (not  including  one  from  the  Governor-General,  and 
six  from  his  brother.  Colonel  Wellesley,) — one  hundred  and 
twenty-four  proposals  for  the  hand  of  Miss  Jowler !  Cornet 
Gahagan,"  he  continued,  "  I  wish  to  think  well  of  you :  you 
are  the  bravest,  the  most  modest,  and,  perhaps,  the  hand- 
somest man  in  our  corps;  but  you  have  not  got  a  single 
rupee.  You  ask  me  for  Julia,  and  you  do  not  possess  even 
an  anna*" — (Here  the  old  rogue  grinned,  as  if  he  had 
made  a  capital  pun.)  "No,  no,"  said  he,  waxing  good- 
natured;  "  Gagy,  my  boy,  it  is  nonsense !  Julia  love,  retire 
with  your  mamma;  this  silly  young  gentleman  will  remain 
and  smoke  a  pipe  with  me." 

I  took  one;  it  was  the  bitterest  chillum  I  ever  smoked  in 
my  life. 

#  ^  ^  #  * 

I  am  not  going  to  give  here  an  account  of  my  military 
services;  they  will  appear  in  my  great  national  autobiog- 


320  THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


raphy,  in  forty  volumes,  which  I  am  now  preparing  for  the 
press.  I  was  with  my  regiment  in  all  Wellesley's  brilliant 
campaigns;  then,  taking  dawk,  I  travelled  across  the  coun- 
try north-eastward,  and  had  the  honour  of  fighting  by  the 
side  of  Lord  Lake  at  Laswaree,'Deeg,  Furruckabad,  Futty- 
ghur,  and  Bhurtpore;  but  I  will  not  boast  of  my  actions — 
the  military  man  knows  them,  my  sovereign  appreciates 
them.  If  asked  who  was  the  bravest  man  of  the  Indian 
army,  there  is  not  an  officer  belonging  to  it  who  would  not 
cry  at  once,  Gahagan.  The  fact  is,  I  was  desperate ;  I 
cared  not  for  life,  deprived  of  Julia  Jowler. 

With  Julia's  stony  looks  ever  before  my  eyes,  her  father's 
stern  refusal  in  my  ears,  I  did  not  care,  at  the  close  of  the 
campaign,  again  to  seek  her  company  or  to  press  my  suit. 
We  were  eighteen  months  on  service,  marching  and  coun- 
ter-marching, and  fighting  almost  every  other  day;  to  the 
world  I  did  not  seem  altered;  but  the  world  only  saw  the 
face,  and  not  the  seared  and  blighted  heart  within  me.  My 
valour,  always  desperate,  now  reached  to  a  pitch  of  cruelty; 
I  tortured  my  grooms  and  grass-cutters  for  the  most  trifling 
offence  or  error, — I  never  in  action  spared  a  man, — I 
sheared  off  three  hundred  and  nine  heads  in  the  course  of 
that  single  campaign. 

Some  influence,  equally  melancholy,  seemed  to  have 
fallen  upon  poor  old  Jowler.  About  six  months  after  we 
had  left  Dum  Dum,  he  received  a  parcel  of  letters  from 
Benares  (whither  his  wife  had  retired  with  her  daughter), 
and  so  deeply  did  they  seem  to  weigh  upon  his  spirits,  that 
he  ordered  eleven  men  of  his  regiment  to  be  flogged  within 
two  days;  but  it  was  against  the  blacks  that  he  chiefly 
turned  his  wrath:  our  fellows,  in  the  heat  and  hurry  of 
the  campaign,  were  in  the  habit  of  dealing  rather  roughly 
with  their  prisoners,  to  extract  treasure  from  them.  They 
used  to  pull  their  nails  out  by  the  root,  to  boil  them  in 
kedgeree  pots,  to  flog  them  and  dress  their  wounds  with 
cayenne  pepper,  and  so  on.  Jowler,  when  he  heard  of 
these  proceedings,  which  before  had  always  justly  exas- 
perated him  (he  was  a  humane  and  kind  little  man),  used 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN.  821 


now  to  smile  fiercely  and  say,  "  D  the  black  scoundrels ! 

Serve  them  right,  serve  them  right ! 

One  day,  about  a  couple  of  miles  in  advance  of  the  col- 
umn, I  had  been  on  a  foraging  party  with  a  few  dragoons, 
and  was  returning  peaceably  to  camp,  when  of  a  sudden  a 
troop  of  Mahrattas  burst  on  us  from  a  neighbouring  mango 
tope,  in  which  they  had  been  hidden :  in  an  instant  three  of 
my  men's  saddles  were  empty,  and  I  was  left  with  but 
seven  more  to  make  head  against  at  least  thirty  of  these 
vagabond  black  horsemen.  I  never  saw  in  my  life  a  nobler 
figure  than  the  leader  of  the  troop — mounted  on  a  splendid 
black  Arab:  he  was  as  tall,  very  nearly,  as  myself;  he 
wore  a  steel  cap  and  a  shirt  of  mail,  and  carried  a  beautiful 
French  carbine,  which  had  already  done  execution  upon  two 
of  my  men.  I  saw  that  our  only  chance  of  safety  lay  in 
the  destruction  of  this  man.  I  shouted  to  him  in  a  voice  of 
thunder  (in  the  Hindostanee  tongue  of  course),  "Stop, 
dog,  if  you  dare,  and  encounter  a  man ! 

In  reply  his  lance  came  whirling  in  the  air  over  my 
head,  and  mortally  transfixed  poor  Foggarty,  of  ours,  who 
was  behind  me.  Grinding  my  teeth  and  swearing  horribly, 
I  drew  that  scimitar  w^hich  never  yet  failed  in  its  blow,"^ 
and  rushed  at  the  Indian.  He  came  down  at  full  gallop, 
his  own  sword  making  ten  thousand  gleaming  circles  in  the 
air,  shrieking  his  cry  of  battle. 

The  contest  did  not  last  an  instant.  With  my  first  blow 
I  cut  off  his  sword-arm  at  the  wrist;  my  second  I  levelled 
at  his  head.  I  said  that  he  wore  a  steel  cap,  with  a  gilt 
iron  spike  of  six  inches,  and  a  hood  of  chain  mail.  I  rose 
in  my  stirrups  and  delivered  "  St.  George ; "  my  sword 
caught  the  spike  exactly  on  the  point,  split  it  sheer  in  two, 
cut  crashing  through  the  steel  cap  and  hood,  and  was  only 
stopped  by  a  ruby  which  he  wore  in  his  back-plate.  His 
head,  cut  clean  in  two  between  the  eyebrows  and  nostrils, 
even  between  the  two  front  teeth,  fell,  one  side  on  each 

*  In  my  affair  with  Macgillicuddy,  I  was  fool  enough  to  go  out 
with  small-swords miserable  weapons,  only  fit  for  tailors.— G. 
O'G.  G. 


322 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


shoulder,  and  he  galloped  on  till  his  horse  was  stopped  by 
my  men,  who  were  not  a  little  amused  at  the  feat. 

As  I  had  expected,  the  remaining  ruffians  fled  on  seeing 
their  leader^s  fate.  I  took  home  his  helmet  by  way  of  cu- 
riosity, and  we  made  a  single  prisoner,  who  was  instantly 
carried  before  old  Jowler. 

We  asked  the  prisoner  the  name  of  the  leader  of  the 
troop;  he  said  it  was  Chowder  Loll. 

"  Chowder  Loll  !  "  shrieked  Colonel  Jowler.  "  Oh  fate ! 
thy  hand  is  here !  "  He  rushed  wildly  into  his  tent — the 
next  day  applied  for  leave  of  absence.  Gutch  took  the 
command  of  the  regiment,  and  I  saw  him  no  more  for  some 
time. 

#  #  #  #  # 

As  I  had  distinguished  myself  not  a  little  during  the 
war.  General  Lake  sent  me  up  with  despatches  to  Calcutta, 
where  Lord  Wellesley  received  me  Avith  the  greatest  distinc- 
tion. Fancy  my  surprise,  on  going  to  a  ball  at  Government 
House,  to  meet  my  old  friend  Jowler;  my  trembling,  blush- 
ing, thrilling  delight,  when  I  saw  Julia  by  his  side ! 

Jowler  seemed  to  blush  too  when  he  beheld  me.  I 
thought  of  my  former  passages  with  his  daughter.  "  Gagy 
my  boy,''  says  he,  shaking  hands,  "glad  to  see  you,  old 
friend,  Julia — come  to  tiffin — Hodgson's  pale — brave  fellow 
Gagy."  Julia  did  not  speak,  but  she  turned  ashy  pale, 
and  fixed  upon  me  with  her  awful  eyes !  I  fainted  almost, 
and  uttered  some  incoherent  words.  Julia  took  my  hand, 
gazed  at  me  still,  and  said,  "  Come !  "    Need  I  say  I  went? 

I  will  not  go  over  the  pale  ale  and  currie-bhaut  again, 
but  this  1  know,  that  in  half  an  hour  I  was  as  much  in  love 
as  I  ever  had  been,  and  that  in  three  weeks  I — yes,  I — was 
the  accepted  lover  of  Julia !  I  did  not  pause  to  ask  where 
were  the  one  hundred  and  twenty-four  offers?  why  I,  re- 
fused before,  should  be  accepted  now?  I  only  felt  that  I 
loved  her,  and  was  happy ! 

^  ^  ^  #        ■  # 

One  night,  one  memorable  night,  I  could  not  sleep,  and, 
with  a  lover's  pardonable  passion,  wandered  solitary  through 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAK 


323 


the  city  of  palaces  until  I  came  to  the  house  which  con- 
tained my  Julia.  I  peeped  into  the  compound — all  was 
still; — I  looked  into  the  verandah — all  was  dark,  except  a 
light — yes,  one  light — and  it  was  in  Julia's  chamber!  My 
heart  throbbed  almost  to  stifling.  I  would — I  would  ad- 
vance, if  but  to  gaze  upon  her  for  a  moment,  and  to  bless 
her  as  she  slept.  I  did  look,  I  did  advance;  and,  oh  Heav- 
en! I  saw  a  lamp  burning,  Mrs.  Jow.  in  a  night-dress,  with 
a  very  dark  baby  in  her  arms,  and  Julia,  looking  tenderly  at 
an  ayah,  who  was  nursing  another. 

^^Oh,  mamma,'' said  Julia,  *^whatv/ould  that  fool  Ga- 
hagan  say  if  he  knew  all?  " 

"He  does  know  all!  "  shouted  I,  springing  forward,  and 
tearing  down  the  tatties  from  the  window.  Mrs.  Jow.  ran 
shrieking  Out  of  the  room,  Julia  fainted,  the  cursed  black 
children  squalled,  and  their  d — d  nurse  fell  on  her  knees, 
gabbling  some  infernal  jargon  of  Hindostanee.  Old  Jowler 
at  this  juncture  entered  with  a  candle  and  a  drawn  sword. 

Liar !  scoundrel !  deceiver !  "  shouted  I.  "  Turn,  ruffian, 
and  defend  yourself !  "  But  old  Jowler,  when  he  saw  me, 
only  whistled,  looked  at  his  lifeless  daughter,  and  slowly 
left  the  room. 

Why  continue  the  tale?  I  need  not  now  account  for 
Jowler's  gloom  on  receiving  his  letters  from  Benares — for 
his  exclamation  upon  the  death  of  the  Indian  chief — for 
his  desire  to  marry  his  daughter :  the  woman  I  was  wooing 
was  no  longer  Miss  Julia  Jowler,  she  was  Mrs.  Chowder 
Loll! 


324  THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


CHAPTER  II. 

ALLYGHUR  AND  LASWAREE. 

I  SAT  down  to  write  gravely  and  sadly,  for  (since  tlie  ap- 
pearance of  some  of  my  adventures  in  a  monthly  magazine) 
unprincipled  men  have  endeavoured  to  rob  me  of  the  only 
good  I  possess,  to  question  the  statements  that  I  make,  and 
themselves,  without  a  spark  of  honour  or  good  feeling,  to 
steal  from  me  that  which  is  my  sole  wealth — my  character 
as  a  teller  of  the  truth. 

The  reader  will  understand  that  it  is  to  the  illiberal 
strictures  of  a  profligate  press  I  now  allude;  among  the 
London  journalists,  none  (luckily  for  themselves)  have 
dared  to  question  the  veracity  of  my  statements;  they  know 
me,  and  they  know  that  I  am  in  London.  If  I  can  use  the 
pen,  I  can  also  wield  a  more  manly  and  terrible  weapon, 
and  would  answer  their  contradictions  with  my  sword !  No  - 
gold  or  gems  adorn  the  hilt  of  that  war-worn  scimitar,  but 
there  is  blood  upon  the  blade — the  blood  of  the  enemies  of 
my  country,  and  the  maligners  of  my  honest  fame.  There 
are  others,  however — the  disgrace  of  a  disgraceful  trade — 
who  borrowing  from  distance  a  despicable  courage,  have 
ventured  to  assail  me.  The  infamous  editors  of  the  Kelso 
Championj  the  Bungay  Beacon^  the  Tipperary  ArguSy  and 
the  Stoke  Pogis  Sentinel,  and  other  dastardly  organs  of 
the  provincial  press,  have,  although  differing  in  politics, 
agreed  upon  this  one  point,  and,  with  a  scoundrelly  unanim- 
ity vented  a  flood  of  abuse  upon  the  revelations  made  by  me.  _ 

They  say  that  I  have  assailed  private  characters,  and 
wilfully  perverted  history  to  blacken  the  reputation  of  pub- 
lic men.  I  ask,  was  any  one  of  these  men  in  Bengal  in  the 
year  1803?  Was  any  single  conductor  of  any  one  of  these 
paltry  prints  ever  in  Bundelcund  or  the  Eohilla  country? 
Does  this  exquisite  Tipperary  scribe  know  the  difference 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


325 


between  Hurry  gurry  bang  and  BurrumtoUah?  Not  he!  and 
because,  forsooth,  in  those  strange  and  distant  lands  strange 
circumstances  have  taken  place,  it  is  insinuated  that  the 
relator  is  a  liar :  nay,  that  the  very  places  themselves  have 
no  existence  but  in  my  imagination.  Fools! — but  I  will 
not  waste  my  anger  upon  them,  and  proceed  to  recount 
some  other  portions  of  my  personal  history. 

It  is,  I  presume,  a  fact  which  even  these  scribbing  assas- 
sins will  not  venture  to  deny,  that  before  the  commence- 
ment of  the  campaign  against  Scindiah,  the  English  general 
formed  a  camp  at  Kanouge  on  the  Jumna,  where  he  exer- 
cised that  brilliant  little  army  which  was  speedily  to  per- 
form such  wonders  in  the  Dooab.  It  will  be  as  well  to  give 
a  slight  account  of  the  causes  of  a  war  which  was  speedily 
to  rage  through  some  of  the  fairest  portions  of  the  Indian 
continent. 

Shah  AUum,  the  son  of  Shah  Lollum,  the  descendant  by 
the  female  line  of  Nadir  Shah  (that  celebrated  Toorkomaun 
adventurer,  who  had  well-nigh  hurled  Bajazet  and  Selim 
the  Second  from  the  throne  of  Bagdad);  Shah  Allum,  I 
say,  although  nominally  the  Emperor  of  Delhi,  was,  in 
reality,  the  slave  of  the  various  warlike  chieftains  who 
lorded  it  by  turns  over  the  country  and  the  sovereign,  until 
conquered  and  slain  by  some  more  successful  rebel.  Chow- 
der Loll  Masolgee,  Zubberdust  Khan,  Dowsunt  Eow  Scin- 
diah, and  the  celebrated  Bobbachy  Jung  Bahawder,  had 
held  for  a  time  complete  mastery  in  Delhi.  The  second  of 
these,  a  ruthless  Af ghaun  soldier,  had  abruptly  entered  the 
capital,  nor  was  he  ejected  from  it  until  he  had  seized 
upon  the  principal  jewels,  and  likewise  put  out  the  eyes  of 
the  last  of  the  unfortunate  family  of  Afrasiab.  Scindiah 
came  to  the  rescue  of  the  sightless  Shah  Allum,  and  though 
he  destroyed  his  oppressor,  only  increased  his  slavery, 
holding  him  in  as  painful  a  bondage  as  he  had  suffered 
under  the  tyrannous  Af  ghaun. 

As  long  as  these  heroes  were  battling  among  themselves, 
or  as  long  rather  as  it  appeared  that  they  had  any  strength 
to  fight  a  battle,  th^  British  government,  ever  anxious  to 


326 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


see  its  enemies  by  the  ears,  by  no  means  interfered  in  the 
contest.  But  the  French  Eevolution  broke  out,  and  a  host 
of  starving  sans-culottes  appeared  among  the  various  Indian 
states,  seeking  for  military  service,  and  inflaming  the  minds 
of  the  various  native  princes  against  the  British  East  India 
Company.  A  number  of  these  entered  into  Scindiah's 
ranks — one  of  them.  Perron,  was  commander  of  his  army; 
and  though  that  chief  was  as  yet  quite  engaged  in  his 
hereditary  quarrel  with  Jeswunt  Bow  Holkar,  and  never 
thought  of  an  invasion  of  the  British  territory,  the  Com- 
pany all  of  a  sudden  discovered  that  Shah  Allum,  his  sov- 
ereign, was  shamefully  ill-used,  and  determined  to  re-estab- 
lish the  ancient  splendour  of  his  throne. 

Of  course  it  was  sheer  benevolence  for  poor  Shah  Allum 
that  prompted  our  governors  to  take  these  kindly  measures 
in  his  favour.  I  don't  know  how  it  happened  that,  at  the 
end  of  the  war,  the  poor  Shah  was  not  a  whit  better  off 
than  at  the  beginning;  and  that  though  Holkar  was  beaten, 
and  Scindiah  annihilated.  Shah  Allum  was  much  such  a 
puppet  as  before.  Somehow,  in  the  hurry  and  confusion 
of  this  struggle,  the  oyster  remained  with  the  British  gov- 
ernment, who  had  so  kindly  offered  to  dress  it  for  the  em- 
peror, while  his  majesty  was  obliged  to  be  contented  with 
the  shell. 

The  force  encamped  at  Kanouge  bore  the  title  of  the 
Grand  Army  of  the  Ganges  and  the  Jumna;  it  consisted  of 
eleven  regiments  of  cavalry  and  twelve  battalions  of  infan- 
try, and  was  commanded  by  General  Lake  in  person. 

Well,  on  the  1st  of  September  we  stormed  Perron's  camp 
at  Allyghur;  on  the  4th  we  took  that  fortress  by  assault; 
and  as  my  name  was  mentioned  in  general  orders,  I  may 
as  well  quote  the  commander-in-chief's  words  regarding 
me — they  will  spare  me  the  trouble  of  composing  my  own 
eulogium. 

"  The  commander-in-chief  is  proud  thus  publicly  to  de- 
clare his  high  sense  of  the  gallantry  of  Lieutenant  Gahagan, 
of  the  cavalry.  In  the  storming  of  the  fortress,  al- 
though unprovided  with  a  single  ladder,  and  accompanied 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


327 


but  by  a  few  brave  men,  Lieutenant  Gahagan  succeeded  in 
escalading  the  inner  and  fourteenth  wall  of  the  place. 
Fourteen  ditches,  lined  with  sword  blades  and  poisoned 
chevaux-de-frise,  fourteen  walls  bristling  with  innumerable 
artillery,  and  as  smooth  as  looking-glasses,  were  in  turns 
triumphantly  passed  by  that  enterprising  officer.  His 
course  was  to  be  traced  by  the  heaps  of  slaughtered  enemies 
lying  thick  upon  the  platforms;  and,  alas!  by  the  corpses 
of  most  of  the  gallant  men  who  followed  him ! — when  at 
length  he  effected  his  lodgment,  and  the  dastardly  enemy, 
who  dared  not  to  confront  him  with  arms,  let  loose  upon 
him  the  tigers  and  lions  of  Scindiah's  menagerie: — this 
meritorious  officer  destroyed,  with  his  own  hand,  four  of 
the  largest  and  most  ferocious  animals,  and  the  rest,  awed 
by  the  indomitable  majesty  of  British  valour,  shrunk 
back  to  their  dens.  Thomas  Higgory,  a  private,  and  E-unty 
Goss,  Havildar,  were  the  only  two  who  remained  out  of  the 
nine  hundred  who  followed  Lieutenant  Gahagan.  Honour 
to  them !  Honour  and  tears  for  the  brave  men  who  per- 
ished on  that  awful  day !  " 

^  ^k.  4fc  ^fc 

TV  TV  ttt 

I  have  copied  this,  word  for  word,  from  the  Bengal 
Hurkaru  of  September  24,  1803;  and  anybody  who  has  the 
slightest  doubt  as  to  the  statement,  may  refer  to  the  paper 
itself. 

And  here  I  must  pause  to  give  thanks  to  Fortune,  which 
so  marvellously  preserved  me,  Sergeant-Ma j or  Higgory, 
and  Eunty  Goss.  Were  I  to  say  that  any  valour  of  ours 
had  carried  us  unhurt  through  this  tremendous  combat,  the 
reader  would  laugh  me  to  scorn.  No :  though  my  narra- 
tive is  extraordinary,  it  is  nevertheless  authentic;  and 
never,  never  would  I  sacrifice  truth  for  the  mere  sake  of 
effect.  The  fact  is  this : — the  citadel  of  Allyghur  is  situated 
upon  a  rock,  about  a  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
sea,  and  is  surrounded  by  fourteen  walls,  as  his  excellency 
was  good  enough  to  remark  in  his  dispatcho  A  man  who 
would  mount  these  without  scaling-ladders,  is  an  ass;  he 
who  would  say  he  mounted  them  without  such  assistance, 


328 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


is  a  liar  and  a  knave.  We  had  scaling-ladders  at  the  com- 
mencement of  the  assault,  although  it  was  quite  impossible 
to  carry  them  beyond  the  first  line  of  batteries.  Mounted 
on  them,  however,  as  our  troops  were  falling  thick  about 
me,  I  saw  that  we  must  ignominiously  retreat,  unless  some 
other  helj)  could  be  found  for  our  brave  fellows  to  escalade 
the  next  wall.  It  was  about  seventy  feet  high.  I  instantly 
turned  the  guns  of  wall  A  on  wall  B,  and  peppered  the 
latter  so  as  to  make,  not  a  breach,  but  a  scaling-place,  the 
men  mounting  in  the  holes  made  by  the  shot.  By  this 
simple  stratagem,  I  managed  to  pass  each  successive  barrier 
— for  to  ascend  a  wall,  which  the  general  was  pleased  to 
call  "as  smooth  as  glass, 'Ms  an  absurd  impossibility.  I 
seek  to  achieve  none  such : — 

"I  dare  do  ail  that  may  become  a  man, 
Who  dares  do  more,  is  neither  more  nor  less." 

Of  course,  had  the  enemy's  guns  been  commonly  well 
served,  not  one  of  us  would  ever  have  been  alive  out  of  the 
three;  but  whether  it  was  owing  to  fright,  or  to  the  exces- 
sive smoke  caused  by  so  many  pieces  of  artillery,  arrive  we 
did.  On  the  platforms,  too,  our  work  was  not  quite  so 
difficult  as  might  be  imagined — killing  these  fellows  was 
sheer  butchery.  As  soon  as  we  appeared,  they  all  turned 
and  fled  helter-skelter,  and  the  reader  may  judge  of  their 
courage  by  the  fact  that  out  of  about  seven  hundred  men 
killed  by  us,  only  forty  had  wounds  in  front,  the  rest  being 
bayoneted  as  they  ran. 

And  beyond  all  other  pieces  of  good  fortune  was  the  very 
letting  out  of  these  tigers,  which  was  the  dernier  ressort  of 
Bournonville,  the  second  commandant  of  the  fort.  I  had 
observed  this  man  (conspicuous  for  a  tri-coloured  scarf 
which  he  wore)  upon  every  one  of  the  walls  as  we  stormed 
them,  and  running  away  the  very  first  among  the  fugitives. 
He  had  all  the  keys  of  the  gates;  and  in  his  tremor,  as  he 
opened  the  menagerie  portal,  left  the  whole  bunch  in  the 
door,  which  I  seized  when  the  animals  were  overcome. 
Kunty  Goss  then  opened  them  one  by  one,  our  troops  en- 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN.  329 


tered,  and  the  victorious  standard  of  my  country  floated 
on  the  walls  of  Allyghur ! 

When  the  general,  accompanied  by  his  staff,  entered 
the  last  line  of  fortifications,  the  brave  old  man  raised  me 
from  the  dead  rhinoceros  on  which  I  was  seated,  and  pressed 
me  to  his  breast.  But  the  excitement  which  had  borne  me 
through  the  fatigues  and  perils  of  that  fearful  day  failed 
all  of  a  sudden,  and  I  wept  like  a  child  upon  his  shoulder. 


Promotion,  in  our  army,  goes  unluckily  by  seniority;  nor 
is  it  in  the  power  of  the  general-in-chief  to  advance  a 
Caesar,  if  he  finds  him  in  the  capacity  of  a  subaltern :  my 
reward  for  the  above  exploit  was,  therefore,  not  very  rich. 
His  excellency  had  a  favourite  horn  snuff-box  (for  though 
exalted  in  station  he  was  in  his  habits  most  simple) :  of 
this,  and  about  a  quarter  of  an  ounce  of  high-dried  Welsh, 
which  he  always  took,  he  made  me  a  present,  saying,  in 
front  of  the  line,  "Accept  this,  Mr.  Gahagan,  as  a  token  of 
respect  from  the  first  to  the  bravest  officer  in  the  army." 

Calculating  the  snuff  to  be  worth  a  halfpenny,  I  should 
say  that  fourpence  was  about  the  value  of  this  gift;  but  it 
has  at  least  this  good  effect — it  serves  to  convince  any  per- 
son who  doubts  my  story,  that  the  facts  of  it  are  really 
true.  I  have  left  it  at  the  office  of  my  publisher,  along 
with  the  extract  from  the  Bengal  Hurkaru^  and  anybody 
may  examine  both  by  applying  in  the  counting-house  of 
Mr.  Cunningham.^  That  once  popular  expression,  or  prov- 
erb, "  Are  you  up  to  snuff?  "  arose  out  of  the  above  circum- 
stance; for  the  officers  of  my  corps,  none  of  whom,  except 
myself,  had  ventured  on  the  storming-party,  used  to  twit 
me  about  this  modest  reward  for  my  labours.  Kever  mind; 
when  they  want  me  to  storm  a  fort  again ,  I  shall  know 
better. 

^*The  major  certainly  offered  to  leave  an  old  snuff-box  at  Mr. 
Cunningham's  office;  but  it  contained  no  extract  from  a  newspaper, 
and  does  not  quite  prove  that  he  killed  a  rhinoceros,  and  stormed 
fourteen  intrenchments  at-the  siege  of  Allyghur. — M.  A.  T. 


330 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAK 


Well,  immediately  after  the  capture  of  this  important 
fortress,  Perron,  who  had  been  the  life  and  soul  of  Scin- 
diah's  army,  came  in  to  us,  with  his  family  and  treasure, 
and  was  passed  over  to  the  French  settlements  at  Chander- 
nagur.  Bourquien  took  his  command,  and  against  him  we 
now  moved.  The  morning  of  the  11th  of  September  found 
us  upon  the  plains  of  Delhi. 

It  was  a  burning  hot  day,  and  we  were  all  refreshing 
ourselves  after  the  morning's  march,  when  I,  who  was  on 
the  advanced  piquet  along  with  O'Gawler  of  the  King's 
Dragoons,  was  made  aware  of  the  enemy's  neighbourhood 
in  a  very  singular  manner.  O'Gawler  and  I  were  seated 
under  a  little  canopy  of  horse-cloths,  which  we  had  formed 
to  shelter  us  from  the  intolerable  heat  of  the  sun,  and  were 
discussing  with  great  delight  a  few  Manilla  cheroots,  and  a 
stone  jar  of  the  most  exquisite,  cool,  weak,  refreshing  san- 
garee.  We  had  been  playing  cards  the  night  before,  and 
O'Gawler  had  lost  to  me  seven  hundred  rupees.  I  emptied 
the  last  of  the  sangaree  into  the  two  pint  tumblers  out  of 
which  we  were  drinking,  and  holding  mine  up,  said,  "  Here's 
better  luck  to  you  next  time,  O'Gawler  !  " 

As  I  spoke  the  words — whish! — a  cannon-ball  cut  the 
tumbler  clean  out  of  my  hand,  and  plumped  into  poor 
O'Gawler's  stomach.  It  settled  him  completely,  and  of 
course  I  never  got  my  seven  hundred  rupees.  Such  are  the 
uncertainties  of  war! 

To  strap  on  my  sabre  and  my  accoutrements — to  mount 
my  Arab  charger — to  drink  off  what  O'Gawler  had  left  of 
the  sangaree — and  to  gallop  to  the  general,  was  the  work 
of  a  moment.  I  found  him  as  comfortably  at  tiffin  as  if 
he  were  at  his  own  house  in  London. 

"  General,"  said  I,  as  soon  as  I  got  into  his  pai jamahs  (or 
tent),  "you  must  leave  your  lunch  if  you  want  to  fight  the 
enemy." 

"The  enemy — psha!  Mr.  Gahagan,  the  enemy  is  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river." 

"I  can  only  tell  your  excellency  that  the  enemy's  guns 
will  hardly  carry  five  miles 3  and  that  Cornet  O'Gawler 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


331 


was  this  moment  shot  dead  at  my  side  with  a  cannon- 
ball." 

^'Ha!  is  it  so?"  said  his  excellency,  rising,  and  laying 
down  the  drumstick  of  a  grilled  chicken.  "Gentlemen, 
remember  that  the  eyes  of  Europe  are  upon  us,  and  follow 
me!" 

Each  aide-de-camp  started  from  table  and  seized  his 
cocked  hat;  each  British  heart  beat  high  at  the  thoughts  of 
the  coming  melee.  We  mounted  our  horses,  and  galloped 
swiftly  after  the  brave  old  general;  I  not  the  last  in  the 
train,  upon  my  famous  black  charger. 

It  was  perfectly  true,  the  enemy  were  posted  in  force  - 
within  three  miles  of  our  camp,  and  from  a  hillock  in  the 
advance  to  which  we  galloped,  we  were  enabled  with  our 
telescopes  to  see  the  whole  of  his  imposing  line.  Nothing 
can  better  describe  it  than  this : — 


— A  is  the  enemy,  and  the  dots  represent  the  hundred 
and  twenty  pieces  of  artillery  which  defended  his  line.  - 
He  was,  moreover,  intrenched;  and  a  wide  morass  in  his  " 
front  gave  him  an  additional  security. 

His  excellency  for  a  moment  surveyed  the  line,  and  then 
said,  turning  round  to  one  of  his  aides-de-camp,  "  Order  up 
Major-General  Tinkler  and  the  cavalry." 

Here,  does  your  excellency  mean?"  said  the  aide-de-  - 
camp,  surprised,  for  the  enemy  had  perceived  us,  and  the 
cannon-balls  were  flying  about  as  thick  as  peas. 

^'  Here,  sir ! "  said  the  old  general,  stamping  with  his 
foot  in  a  passion,  and  the  A.D.C.  shrugged  his  shoulders 
and  galloped  away.  In  five  minutes  we  heard  the  trumpets 
in  our  camp,  and  in  twenty  more  the  greater  part  of  the 
cavalry  had  joined  us. 

Up  they  came,  five  thousand  men,  their  standards  flap- 
ping in  the  air,  their  long  line  of  polished  jack-boots  gleam- 
ing in  the  golden  sunlight.    "And  now  we  are  here,"  said 


332 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAK 


Major-General  Sir  Theophilus  Tinkler,  "what  next?" 

"Oh,  d          it,"  said  the  commander-in-chief,  "charge, 

charge — nothing  like  charging — galloping — guns — rascally 
black  scoundrels — charge,  charge !  "  And  then,  turning 
round  to  me  (perhaps  he  was  glad  to  change  the  conversa- 
tion), he  said,  "  Lieutenant  Gahagan,  you  will  stay  with  me." 

And  well  for  him  I  did,  for  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that 
the  battle  was  gained  hy  me.  I  do  not  mean  to  insult  the 
reader  by  pretending  that  any  personal  exertions  of  mine 
turned  the  day, — that  I  killed,  for  instance,  a  regiment  of 
cavalry  or  swallowed  a  battery  of  guns, — such  absurd  tales 
would  disgrace  both  the  hearer  and  the  teller.  I,  as  is 
well  known,  never  say  a  single  word  which  cannot  be 
proved,  and  hate  more  than  all  other  vices  the  absurd  sin 
of  egotism;  I  simply  mean  that  my  advice  to  the  general, 
at  a  quarter  past  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  that  day, 
won  this  great  triumph  for  the  British  army. 

Gleig,  Mill,  and  Thorn  have  all  told  the  tale  of  this  war, 
though  somehow  they  have  omitted  all  mention  of  the  hero 
of  it.  General  Lake,  for  the  victory  of  that  day,  became 
Lord  Lake  of  Laswaree.  Laswaree!  and  who  forsooth 
was  the  real  conqueror  of  Laswaree?  I  can  lay  my  hand 
upon  my  heart,  and  say  that  /  was.  If  any  proof  is  want- 
ing of  the  fact,  let  me  give  it  at  once,  and  from  the  highest 
military  testimony  in  the  world,  I  mean  that  of  the  Em- 
peror Napoleon. 

In  the  month  of  March,  1817,  I  was  passenger  on  board 
the  Prince  Regent,  Captain  Harris,  which  touched  at  St. 
Helena  on  its  passage  from  Calcutta  to  England.  In  com- 
pany with  the  other  officers  on  board  the  ship,  I  paid  my 
respects  to  the  illustrious  exile  of  Longwood,  who  received 
us  in  his  garden,  where  he  was  walking  about,  in  a  nankeen 
dress  and  a  large  broad-brimmed  straw-hat,  with  General 
Montholon,  Count  Las  Casas,  and  his  son  Emanuel,  then  a 
little  boy,  who  I  dare  say  does  not  recollect  me,  but  who 
nevertheless  played  with  my  sword-knot  and  the  tassels  of 
my  Hessian  boots  during  the  whole  of  our  interview  with 
his  Imperial  Majesty. 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


333 


Our  names  were  read  out  (in  a  pretty  accent,  by  the 
way!)  by  General  Montholon,  and  the  Emperor,  as  each 
was  pronounced,  made  a  bow  to  the  owner  of  it,  but  did 
not  vouchsafe  a  word.  At  last  Montholon  came  to  mine. 
The  Emperor  looked  me  at  once  in  the  face,  took  his  hands 
out  of  his  pockets,  put  them  behind  his  back,  and  coming 
up  to  me  smiling,  pronounced  the  following  words : — 
Assyey  Delhiy  Deeg^  FuttygJmr? 

I  blushed,  and  taking  off  my  hat  with  a  bow,  said — 
"  Sire,    est  moiy 

Parhleu  !  je  le  savais  hien,^^  said  the  Emperor,  hold- 
ing out  his  snuff'-box.  "En  icsez-vous,  Major?  I  took 
a  large  pinch  (which,  with  the  honour  of  speaking  to  so 
great  a  man,  brought  the  tears  into  my  eyes),  and  he  con- 
tinued as  nearly  as  possible  in  the  following  words : — 

"  Sir,  you  are  known;  you  come  of  an  heroic  nation. 
Your  third  brother,  the  Chef  de  Bataillon,  Count  Godfrey 
Gahagan,  was  in  my  Irish  brigade." 

Gahagan, — "  Sire,  it  is  true.  He  and  my  countrymen 
in  your  Majesty's  service  stood  under  the  green  flag  in  the 
breach  of  Burgos,  and  beat  Wellington  back.  It  was  the 
only  time,  as  your  Majesty  knows,  that  Irishmen  and  Eng- 
lishmen were  beaten  in  that  war." 

Napoleon  (looking  as  if  he  would  say,  "  D —  your  can- 
dour. Major  Gahagan.") — ^^Well,  well;  it  was  so.  Your 
brother  was  a  Count,  and  died  a  General  in  my  service." 

Gahagan.  — He  was  found  lying  upon  the  bodies  of 
nine-and-twenty  Cossacks  at  Borodino.  They  were  all 
dead,  and  bore  the  Gahagan  mark." 

Napoleon  (to  Montholon). — "C'est  vrai,  Montholon:  je 
vous  donne  ma  parole  d'honneur  la  plus  sacree,  que  c'est 
vrai.  lis  ne  font  pas  d'autres,  ces  terribles  Ga'gans.  You 
must  know  that  Monsieur  gained  the  battle  of  Delhi  as 
certainly  as  I  did  that  of  Austerlitz.  In  this  way: — Ce 
helitre  de  Lor  Lake,  after  calling  up  his  cavalry,  and 
placing  them  in  front  of  Holkar's  batteries,  qui  halay- 
aient  la  plaine,  was  for  charging  the  enemy's  batteries 
with  his  horse,  who  would  have  been  ecrases^  mitrailles, 


334 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


foudroyes  to  a  man,  but  for  the  cunning  of  ce  grand  rottge 
que  vous  voyez.^^ 

Montholon. — "  Coquin  de  Major ^  va  !  " 

Napoleon. — "Montholon!  tais-toi.  When  Lord  Lake, 
with  his  great  bull-headed  English  obstinacy,  saw  the 
fdcheuse  position  into  which  he  had  brought  his  troops,  he 
was  for  dying  on  the  spot,  and  would  infallibly  have  done 
so — and  the  loss  of  his  army  would  have  been  the  ruin  of 
the  East  India  Company — and  ohe  ruin  of  the  English  East 
India  Company  would  have  established  my  empire  (bah !  it 
was  a  republic  then!)  in  the  East;  but  that  the  man  before 
us,  Lieutenant  Goliah  Gahagan,  was  riding  at  the  side  of 
General  Lake." 

Montholon  (with  an  accent  of  despair  and  fury). — "  Gre- 
din  !  cent  mille  tonnerres  de  Dieu  1 " 

Napoleon  (benignantly). — "  Calme-toi,  7non  fidele  ami. 
What  will  you?  It  was  fate.  Gahagan,  at  the  critical 
period  of  the  battle,  or  rather  slaughter  (for  the  English 
had  not  slain  a  man  of  the  enemy),  advised  a  retreat.'^ 

Montholon, — "  Le  Idche  !  Tin  Frangais  meurt^  mais  il  ne 
recule  jamais, 

Napoleon. — ^'  Stupide!  Don't  you  see  why  the  retreat 
was  ordered? — don't  you  know  that  it  was  a  feint  on  the 
part  of  Gahagan  to  draw  Holkar  from  his  impregnable  in- 
trenchments?  Don't  you  know  that  the  ignorant  Indian 
fell  into  the  snare,  and  issuing  from  behind  the  cover  of 
his  guns,  came  down  with  his  cavalry  on  the  plains  in  pur- 
suit of  Lake  and  his  dragoons?  Then  it  was  that  the  En- 
glishmen turned  upon  him;  the  hardy  children  of  the  north 
swept  down  his  feeble  horsemen,  bore  them  back  to  their 
guns,  which  were  useless,  entered  Holkar's  intrenchments 
along  with  his  troops,  sabred  the  artillerymen  at  their 
pieces,  and  won  the  battle  of  Delhi !  " 

As  the  Emperor  spoke,  his  pale  cheek  glowed  red,  his 
eye  flashed  fire,  his  deep  clear  voice  rung  as  of  old  when 
he  pointed  out  the  enemy  from  beneath  the  shadow  of  the 
Pyramids,  or  rallied  his  regiments  to  the  charge  upon  the 
death-strewn  plain  of  Wagram.    I  have  had  many  a  proud 


THE  LIFE^OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


335 


moment  in  my  life,  but  never  such  a  proud  one  as  this;  and 
I  would  readily  pardon  the  word  "coward,"  as  applied  to 
me  by  Montholon,  in  consideration  of  the  testimony  which 
his  master  bore  in  my  favour. 

" Major, said  the  Emperor  to  me  in  conclusion,  "why 
had  I  not  such  a  man  as  you  in  my  service?  I  would  have 
made  you  a  Prince  and  a  Marshal !  and  here  he  fell  into 
a  reverie,  of  which  I  knew  and  respected  the  purport.  He 
was  thinking,  doubtless,  that  I  might  have  retrieved  his 
fortunes,  and  indeed  I  have  very  little  doubt  that  I  might. 

Very  soon  after,  coffee  was  brought  by  Monsieur  Mar- 
chand,  I^apoleon^s  valet-de-chambre,  and  after  partaking  of 
that  beverage,  and  talking  upon  the  politics  of  the  day,  the 
Emperor  withdrew,  leaving  me  deeply  impressed  by  the 
condescension  he  had  shewn  in  this  remarkable  interview. 


15 — Vol.  19 


336  THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


CHAPTER  III. 

A  PEEP  INTO  SPAIN— ACCOUNT  OF  THE  ORIGIN  AND 
SERVICES  OF  THE  AHMEDNUGGAR  IRREGULARS. 

Head  QMarters,  Morella,  Sept.  15,  18S8. 

I  HAVE  been  here  for  some  months,  along  with  my  young 
friend  Cabrera;  and  in  the  hurry  and  bustle  of  war — daily 
on  guard  and  in  the  batteries  for  sixteen  hours  out  of  the 
twenty- four,  with  fourteen  severe  wounds  and  seven  musket- 
balls  in  my  body — it  may  be  imagined  that  I  have  had  little 
time  to  think  about  the  publication  of  my  memoirs.  Inter 
arma  silent  leges — in  the  midst  of  fighting  be  hanged  to 
writing!  as  the  poet  says;  and  I  never  would  have  bothered 
myself  with  a  pen,  had  not  common  gratitude  incited  me  to 
throw  off  a  few  pages.  The  publisher  and  editor  of  the 
New  Monthly  Magazine  little  know  what  service  has  been 
done  to  me  by  that  miscellany. 

Along  with  Oraa^s  troops,  who  have  of  late  been  beleag- 
uering this  place,  there  was  a  young  Milesian  gentleman, 
Mr.  Toone  O'Connor  Emmett  Fitzgerald  Sheeny,  by  name, 
a  law  rstudent,  and  member  of  Gray's  Inn,  and  what  he 
called  Bay  Ah  of  Trinity  College,  Dublin.  Mr.  Sheeny 
was  with  the  Queen's  people,  not  in  a  military  capacity, 
but  as  representative  of  an  English  journal,  to  which,  for  a 
trilling  weekly  remuneration,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  trans- 
mitting accounts  of  the  movements  of  the  belligerents,  and 
his  own  opinion  of  the  politics  of  Spain.  Receiving,  for 
the  discharge  of  this  duty,  a  couple  of  guineas  a-week  from 
the  proprietors  of  the  journal  in  question,  he  was  enabled, 
as  I  need  scarcely  say,  to  make  such  a  show  in  Oraa's 
camp  as  only  a  Christino  general  officer,  or  at  the  very  least 
a  colonel  of  a  regiment,  can  afford  to  keep  up. 

In  the  famous  sortie  which  we  made  upon  the  twenty- 
third,  I  was  of  course  among  the  foremost  in  the  melee,  and 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


337 


found  myself,  after  a  good  deal  of  slaughtering  (wHch  it 
would  be  as  disagreeable  as  useless  to  describe  here),  in  the 
court  of  a  small  inn  or  podesta,  which  had  leen  made  the 
headquarters  of  several  queenite  officers  during  the  siege. 
The  pesatero  or  landlord  of  he  inn  had  been  despatched  by 
my  brave  chapel  churies,  with  his  fine  family  of  children — 
the  officers  quartered  in  the  podesta  had  oi  course  bolted; 
but  one  man  remained,  and  my  fellows  were  on  the  point 
of  cutting  him  into  ten  thousand  pieces  with  their  borachios, 
when  I  arrived  in  the  room  time  enough  to  prev  nt  the 
catastrophe.  Seeing  before  me  an  individual  in  the  cos- 
tume of  a  civilian — a  white  hat,  x  light-bl^e  satin  cravat, 
embroidered  with  butterflies  and  other  quadrupeds,  a  green 
coat  and  brass  buttons,  and  a  pair  of  blue  plaid  trousers,  I 
recognized  at  once  a  countryman,  and  interposed  to  save 
his  life. 

In  an  agonized  brogue  the  unhappy  young  man  was  say- 
ing all  that  he  could  to  induce  the  chapel-churies  to  give 
up  their  intention  of  slaughtering  him;  but  it  is  very  little 
likely  that  his  protestations  would  have  had  any  effect  upon 
them,  had  not  I  appeared  in  the  room,  and  shouted  to  the 
ruffians  to  hold  their  hand. 

Seeing  a  general  officer  before  them  (I  have  the  honour 
to  hold  that  rank  in  the  service  of  his  Catholic  Majesty), 
and  moreover  one  six  feet  four  in  height,  and  armed  with 
that  terrible  cabecilla  (a  sword  so  called,  because  it  is  five 
feet  long)  which  is  so  well  known  among  the  Spanish 
armies — seeing,  I  say,  this  figure,  the  fellows  retired,  ex- 
claiming, "  AdioSf  corpo  di  haecoy  nosotrosy^'  and  so  on,  clearly 
proving  (by  their  words)  that  they  would,  if  they  dared, 
have  immolated  the  victim  whom  I  had  thus  rescued  from 
their  fury.  Villains!  "  shouted  I,  hearing  them  grumble, 
"away!  quit  the  apartment!'^  Each  man,  sulkily  sheath- 
ing his  sombrero,  obeyed,  and  quitted  the  camarilla. 

It  was  then  that  Mr.  Sheeny  detailed  to  me  the  particu- 
lars to  which  I  have  briefly  adverted;  and,  informing  me 
at  the  same  time  that  he  had  a  family  in  England  who 
would  feel  obliged  to  me  for  his  release,  and  that  his  most 


338  THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


intimate  friend  the  English  ambassador  would  move  heaven 
and  earth  to  revenge  his  fall,  he  directed  my  attention  to  a 
portmanteau  passably  well  filled,  which  he  hoped  would 
satisfy  the  cupidity  of  my  troops.  I  said,  though  with 
much  regret,  that  I  must  subject  his  person  to  a  search; 
and  hence  arose  the  circumstance  which  has  called  for  what 
I  fear  you  will  consider  a  somewhat  tedious  explanation. 
I  found  upon  Mr.  Sheeny' s  person  three  sovereigns  in 
English  money  (which  I  have  to  this  day),  and  singularly 
enough  a  copy  of  the  New  Monthly  Magazine  for  March, 
which  contained  my  article.  It  was  a  toss-up  whether 
I  should  let  the  poor  young  man  be  shot  or  no,  but  this 
little  circumstance  saved  his  life.  The  gratified  vanity  of 
authorship  induced  me  to  accept  his  portmanteau  and 
valuables,  and  to  allow  the  poor  wretch  to  go  free.  I  put 
the  Magazine  in  my  coat-pocket,  and  left  him  and  the 
podesta. 

The  men,  to  my  surprise,  had  quitted  the  building,  and 
it  was  full  time  for  me  to  follow,  for  I  found  our  sallying- 
party,  after  committing  dreadful  ravages  iu  Oraa's  lines, 
were  in  full  retreat  upon  the  fort,  hotly  pressed  by  a  supe- 
rior force  of  the  enemy.  I  am  pretty  well  known  and  re- 
spected by  the  men  of  both  parties  in  Spain  (indeed  I  served 
for  some  months  on  the  Queen's  side  before  I  came  over  to 
Don  Carlos) ;  and,  as  it  is  my  maxim  never  to  give  quarter, 
I  never  expect  to  receive  it  when  taken  myself.  On  issu- 
ing from  the  podesta  with  Sheeny 's  portmanteau  and  my 
sword  in  my  hand,  1  was  a  little  disgusted  and  annoyed  to 
see  our  own  men  in  a  pretty  good  column  retreating  at 
double-quick,  and  about  four  hundred  yards  beyond  me  up 
the  hill  leading  to  the  fort,  while  on  my  left  hand,  and  at 
only  a  hundred  yards,  a  troop  of  the  queenite  lancers  were 
clattering  along  the  road. 

I  had  got  into  the  very  middle  of  the  road  before  I  made 
this  discovery,  so  that  the  fellows  had  a  full  sight  of  me, 
and  whizz !  came  a  bullet  by  my  left  whisker  before  I  could 
say  Jack  Eobinson.  I  looked  round — there  were  seventy 
of  the  accursed  malvados  at  the  least,  and  within,  as  I  said, 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN.  339 


a  hundred  yards.  Were  I  to  say  that  I  stopped  to  fight 
seventy  men,  you  would  write  me  down  a  fool  or  a  liar :  no, 
sir,  I  did  not  fight,  I  ran  away. 

I  am  six  feet  four — my  figure  is  as  well  known  in  the 
Spanish  army  as  that  of  the  Count  de  Luchana,  or  my 
fierce  little  friend  Cabrera  himself.  Gahagan  !  "  shouted 
out  half-a-dozen  scoundrelly  voices,  and  fifty  more  shots 
came  rattling  after  me.  I  was  running,  running  as  the 
brave  stag  before  the  hounds — running  as  I  have  done  a 
great  number  of  times  before  in  my  life,  when  there  was  no 
help  for  it  but  a  race. 

After  I  had  run  about  five  hundred  yards,  I  saw  that  I 
had  gained  nearly  three  upon  our  column  in  front,  and  that 
likewise  the  Christino  horsemen  were  left  behind  some 
hundred  yards  more,  with  the  exception  of  three,  who 
were  fearfully  near  me.  The  first  was  an  officer  without  a 
lance;  he  had  fired  both  his  pistols  at  me,  and  was  twenty 
yards  in  advance  of  his  comrades;  there  was  a  similar  dis- 
tance between  the  two  lancers  who  rode  behind  him.  I 
determined  then  to  wait  for  No.  1,  and  as  he  came  up  de- 
livered cut  3  at  his  horse's  near  leg — off  it  flew,  and  down, 
as  I  expected,  went  horse  and  man.  I  had  hardly  time  to 
pass  my  sword  through  my  prostrate  enemy,  when  No.  2 
was  upon  me.  If  I  could  but  get  that  fellow's  horse, 
thought  I,  I  am  safe,  and  I  executed  at  once  the  plan 
which  I  hoped  was  to  effect  my  rescue. 

I  had,  as  I  said,  left  the  podesta  with  Sheeny's  portman- 
teau, and,  unwilling  to  part  with  some  of  the  articles  it 
contained — some  shirts,  a  bottle  of  whiskey,  a  few  cakes  of 
Windsor  soap,  &c.,  &c., — I  had  carried  it  thus  far  on  my 
shoulders,  but  now  was  compelled  to  sacrifice  it  malgre 
moi.  As  the  lancer  came  up,  I  dropped  my  sword  from  my 
right  hand,  and  hurled  the  portmanteau  at  his  head  with 
aim  so  true,  that  he  fell  back  on  his  saddle  like  a  sack, 
and  thus  when  the  horse  galloped  up  to  me,  I  had  no  diffi- 
culty in  dismounting  the  rider — the  whiskey  bottle  struck 
him  over  his  right  eye,  and  he  was  completely  stunned. 
To  dash  him  from  the  saddle  and  spring  myself  into  it,  was 


340 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


the  work  of  a  moment;  indeed,  the  two  combats  had  taken 
place  in  about  a  fifth  part  of  the  time  which  it  has  taken 
the  reader  to  peruse  the  description.  But  in  the  rapidity 
of  the  last  encounter,  and  the  mounting  of  my  enemy's 
horse,  I  had  committed  a  very  absurd  oversight — I  was 
scampering  away  without  my  sword  I  What  was  I  to  do? 
— to  scamper  on,  to  be  sure,  and  trust  to  the  legs  of  my 
horse  for  safety ! 

The  lancer  behind  me  gained  on  me  every  moment,  and 
I  could  hear  his  horrid  laugh  as  he  neared  me.  I  leaned 
forward  jockey-fashion  in  my  saddle,  and  kicked,  and 
urged,  and  flogged  with  my  hand,  but  all  in  vain.  Closer 
— closer — the  point  of  his  lance  was  within  two  feet  of  my 
back.  Ah!  Ah!  he  delivered  the  point,  and  fancy  my 
agony  when  I  felt  it  enter — through  exactly  fifty-nine  pages 
of  the  New  Monthly  Magazine,  Had  it  not  been  for  the 
New  Monthly  Magazine  and  Humourist,  I  should  have  been 
impaled  without  a  shadow  of  a  doubt.  Am  I  wrong  in  feel- 
ing gratitude?  Have  I  not  cause  to  continue  my  contribu- 
tions? 

When  I  got  safe  into  Morella,  along  with  the  tail  of  the 
sallying  party,  I  was  for  the  first  time  made  acquainted 
with  the  ridiculous  result  of  the  lancer's  thrust  (as  he  de- 
livered his  lance,  I  must  tell  you  that  a  ball  came  whizz 
over  my  head  from  our  fellows,  and,  entering  at  his  nose, 
put  a  stop  to  his  lancing  for  the  future).  I  hastened  to 
Cabrera's  quarter,  and  related  to  him  some  of  my  adven- 
tures during  the  day. 

"But,  General,"  said  he,  "you  are  standing.  I  beg  you 
'  chiudete  Vuscio  '  (take  a  chair)." 

I  did  so,  and  then  for  the  first  time  was  aware  that  there 
was  some  foreign  substance  in  the  tail  of  my  coat,  which 
prevented  my  sitting  at  ease.  I  drew  out  the  Magazine 
which  I  had  seized,  and  there,  to  my  wonder,  discovered 
the  Christino  lance  twisted  up  like  a  fish-hook  or  a  pastoral 
crook. 

"  Ha !  ha !  ha !  "  said  Cabrera  (who  is  a  notorious  wag). 
"  Valdepenas  madrilenos,"  growled  out  Tristany. 


% 

THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


341 


"  By  iny  cachuca  di  caballero  "  (upon  my  honour  as  a  gentle- 
man), shrieked  out  Eos  d'Eroles,  convulsed  with  laugh- 
ter, ^^I  will  send  it  to  the  Bishop  of  Leon  for  a  crozier." 

^^Gahagan  has  consecrated  it,'' giggled  out  Kamon  Ca- 
brera; and  so  they  went  on  with  their  muchacas  for  an 
hour  or  more.  But,  when  they  heard  that  the  means  of 
my  salvation  from  the  lance  of  the  scoundrelly  Christino 
had  been  the  Magazine  containing  my  own  history,  their 
laugh  was  changed  into  wonder.  I  read  them  (speaking 
Spanish  more  fluently  than  English)  every  word  of  my 
story.  "But  how  is  this?"  said  Cabrera.  "You  surely 
have  other  adventures  to  relate?  " 

"Excellent  Sir,"  said  I,  "I  have;  "  and  that  very  even- 
ing, as  we  sat  over  our  cups  of  tertullia  (sangaree),  I  con- 
tinued my  narrative  in  nearly  the  following  words : — 

"I  left  off  in  the  very  middle  of  the  battle  of  Delhi, 
which  ended,  as  everybody  knows,  in  the  complete  triumph 
of  the  British  arms.  But  who  gained  the  battle?  Lord 
Lake  is  called  Viscount  Lake  of  Delhi  and  Laswaree,  while 
Major  Gaha — nonsense,  never  mind  hiirij  never  mind  the 
charge  he  executed  when,  sabre  in  hand,  he  leaped  the  six-, 
foot  wall  in  the  mouth  of  the  roaring  cannon,  over  the  heads 
of  the  gleaming  pikes,  when,  with  one  hand  seizing  the 
sacred  peish-cush,  or  fish — which  was  the  banner  always 
borne  before  Scindiah, — he,  with  his  good  sword,  cut  off 
the  trunk  of  the  famous  white  elephant,  which,  shrieking 
with  agony,  plunged  madly  into  the  Mahratta  ranks,  fol- 
lowed by  his  giant  brethren,  tossing,  like  chaff  before  the 
wind,  the  affrighted  kitmatgars.  He,  meanwhile,  now 
plunging  into  the  midst  of  a  battalion  of  consumahs,  now 
cleaving  to  the  chine  a  screaming  and  ferocious  bobbachee,* 
rushed  on,  like  the  simoom  across  the  red  Zaharan  plain, 
killing,  with  his  own  hand,  a  hundred  and  forty-thr — 
but  never  mind — ^  alone  he  did  it;^  sufficient  be  lt  for 
him,  however,  that  the  victory  was  won;  he  cares  not  for 

*The  double-] ointed  camel  of  Bactria,  which  the  classic  reader 
may  recollect  is  mentioned  by  Suidas  (in  his  Commentary  on  the 
Flight  of  Dariujs),  is  so  called  by  the  Mahrattas. 


342 


THE  LIFE  OP  MAJOR  G  AH  AG  AN. 


the  empty  honours  which  were  awarded  to  more  fortunate 
men ! 

"  We  marched  after  the  battle  to  Delhi,  where  poor  blind 
old  Shah  AUum  received  us,  and  bestowed  all  kinds  of 
honours  and  titles  on  our  general.  As  each  of  the  oflOlcers 
passed  before  him,  the  shah  did  not  fail  to  remark  my  per- 
son,^ and  was  told  my  name. 

"  Lord  Lake  whispered  to  him  my  exploits,  and  the  old 
man  was  so  delighted  with  the  account  of  my  victory  over 
the  elephant  (whose  trunk  I  use  to  this  day),  that  he  said, 
^Let  him  be  called  Gujputi,' or  the  lord  of  elephants; 
and  Gujputi  was  the  name  by  which  I  was  afterwards 
familiarly  known  among  the  natives, — the  men,  that  is. 
The  women  had  a  softer  appellation  for  me,  and  called 
me  '  Mushook,'  or  charmer. 

"  Well,  I  shall  not  describe  Delhi,  which  is  doubtless 
well  known  to  the  reader;  nor  the  siege  of  Agra,  to  which 
place  we  went  from  Delhi;  nor  the  terrible  day  at  Laswaree, 
which  went  nigh  to  finish  the  war.  Suffice  it  to  say  that 
we  were  victorious,  and  that  I  was  wounded,  as  I  have 
'.invariably  been  in  the  two  hundred  and  four  occasions 

-  when  I  have  found  myself  in  action.  One  point,  however, 
became  in  the  course  of  this  campaign  quite  evident — that 
something  must  be  done  for  Gahagan,    The  country  cried 

^  shame,  the  King's  troops  grumbled,  the  sepoys  openly  mur- 
.  mured  that  their  Gujputi  was  only  a  lieutenant,  when  he 
had  performed  such  signal  services.  What  was  to  be  done? 
Lord  Wellesley  was  in  an  evident  quandary.  '  Gahagan,' 
wrote  he,  'to  be  a  subaltern  is  evidently  not  your  fate — 
you  were  horn  for  command  ;  but  Lake  and  General  AVelles- 
ley  are  good  officers,  they  cannot  be  turned  out — I  must 
make  a  post  for  you.    What  say  you,  my  dear  fellow,  to  a 

-  corps  of  irregular  horse  ? ' 

"  It  was  thus  that  the  famous  corps  of  Ahmednuggar 
Irregulars  had  its  origin;  a  guerilla  force,  it  is  true,  but 

*  There  is  some  trifling  inconsistency  on  the  Major's  part.  Shah 
Allum  was  notoriously  blind :  how,  then,  could  he  have  seen  Gaha- 
gan?  The  thing  is  manifestly  impossible. 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN.  343 


one  which,  will  long  be  remembered  in  the  annals  of  our  In- 
dian campaigns. 

#  #  *  # 

"  As  the  commander  of  this  regiment,  I  was  allowed  to 
settle  the  uniform  of  the  corps,  as  well  as  to  select  recruits. 
These  were  not  wanting  as  soon  as  my  appointment  was 
made  known,  but  came  flocking  to  my  standard  a  great  deal 
faster  than  to  the  regular  corps  in  the  Company's  service. 
I  had  European  officers,  of  course,  to  command  them,  and  a 
few  of  my  countrymen  as  sergeants;  the  rest  were  all  na- 
tives, whom  I  chose  of  the  strongest  and  bravest  men  in 
India;  chiefly  Pitans,  Afghans,  Hurrumzadehs,  and  Cal- 
liawns,  for  these  are  well  known  to  be  the  most  warlike 
districts  of  our  Indian  territory. 

"  When  on  parade  and  in  full  uniform  we  made  a  singular 
and  noble  appearance.  I  was  always  fond  of  dress;  and, 
in  this  instance,  gave  a  carte-hlanche  to  my  taste,  and  in- 
vented the  most  splendid  costume  that  ever  perhaps  deco- 
rated a  soldier.  I  am,  as  I  have  stated  already,  six  feet 
four  inches  in  height,  and  of  matchless  symmetry  and  pro- 
portion. My  hair  and  beard  are  of  the  most  brilliant 
auburn,  so  bright  as  scarcely  to  be  distinguished  at  a  dis- 
tance from  scarlet.  My  eyes  are  bright  blue,  overshadowed 
by  bushy  eyebrows  of  the  colour  of  my  hair,  and  a  terrific 
gash  of  the  deepest  purple,  which  goes  over  the  forehead, 
the  eyelid,  and  the  cheek,  and  finishes  at  the  ear,  gives  my 
face  a  more  strictly  military  appearance  than  can  be  con- 
ceived. When  I  have  been  drinking  (as  is  pretty  often  the 
case)  this  gash  becomes  ruby  bright,  and  as  I  have  another 
which  took  off  a  piece  of  my  under-lip,  and  shows  five  of 
my  front  teeth,  I  leave  you  to  imagine  that '  seldom  lighted 
on  the  earth  '  (as  the  monster  Burke  remarked  of  one  of  his 
unhappy  victims)  'a  more  extraordinary  vision.'  I  im- 
proved these  natural  advantages;  and,  while  in  cantonment 
during  the  hot  winds  at  Chittybobbary,  allowed  my  hair  to 
grow  very  long,  as  did  my  beard,  which  reached  to  my 
waist.    It  took  me  two  hours  daily  to  curl  my  hair  in  teu 


344 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAK 


thousand  little  corkscrew  ringlets,  which  waved  over  my 
shoulders,  and  to  get  my  moustaches  well  round  to  the  cor- 
ners of  my  eyelids.  I  dressed  in  loose  scarlet  trousers  and 
red  morocco  boots,  a  scarlet  jacket,  and  a  shawl  of  the 
same  colour  round  my  waist;  a  scarlet  turban  three  feet 
high,  and  decorated  with  a  tuft  of  the  scarlet  feathers  of 
the  flamingo,  formed  my  head-dress,  and  I  did  not  allow 
myself  a  single  ornament,  except  a  small  silver  skull  and 
cross-bones  in  front  of  my  turban.  Two  brace  of  pistols,  a 
Malay  creese,  and  a  tulwar,  sharp  on  both  sides,  and  very 
nearly  six  feet  in  length,  completed  this  elegant  costume. 
My  two  flags  were  each  surmounted  with  a  real  skull  and 
cross-bones,  and  ornamented,  one  with  a  black,  and  the 
other  with  a  red  beard  (of  enormous  length,  taken  from 
men  slain  in  battle  by  me).  On  one  flag  were  of  course 
the  arms  of  John  Company;  on  the  other,  an  image  of  my- 
self bestriding  a  prostrate  elephant,  with  the  simple  word 
*  GujpuTi '  written  underneath  in  the  ISTagaree,  Persian, 
and  Sanscrit  characters.  I  rode  my  black  horse,  and 
looked,  by  the  immortal  gods,  like  Mars.  To  me  might  be 
applied  the  words  which  were  written  concerning  handsome 
General  Webb,  in  Marlborough's  time: — 

'*  *  To  noble  danger  he  conducts  the  way, 
His  great  example  all  his  troop  obey, 
Before  the  front  the  Major  sternly  rides. 
With  such  an  air  as  Mars  to  battle  strides. 
Propitious  heaven  must  sure  a  hero  save 
Like  Paris  handsome,  and  like  Hector  brave ! ' 

"My  ofiicers  (Captains  Biggs  and  Mackanulty,  Lieuten- 
ants Glogger,  Pappendick,  Stuffle,  &c.  &c.)  were  dressed 
exactly  in  the  same  way,  but  in  yellow,  and  the  men  were 
similarly  equipped,  but  in  black.  I  have  seen  many  regi- 
ments since,  and  many  ferocious-looking  men,  but  the 
Ahmednuggar  Irregulars  were  more  dreadful  to  the  view 
than  any  set  of  ruffians  on  which  I  ever  set  eyes.  I  would 
to  heaven  that  the  Czar  of  Muscovy  had  passed  through 
Caubul  and  Lahore,  and  that  I  with  my  old  Ahmednuggars 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN.  345 


stood  on  a  fair  field  to  meet  him !  Bless  you,  bless  you, 
my  swart  companions  in  victory!  through  the  mist  of 
twenty  years  I  hear  the  booming  of  your  war-cry,  and  mark 
the  glitter  of  your  scimitars  as  ye  rage  in  the  thickest  of 
the  battle !  =^ 

^^But  away  with  melancholy  reminiscences.  You  may 
fancy  what  a  figure  the  Irregulars  cut  on  a  field-day — a  line 
of  five  hundred  black-faced,  black-dressed,  black-horsed, 
black-bearded  men — Biggs,  Glogger,  and  the  other  officers 
in  yellow,  galloping  about  the  field  like  flashes  of  light- 
ning; myself  enlightening  them,  red,  solitary,  and  majestic, 
like  yon  glorious  orb  in  heaven. 

There  are  very  few  men,  I  presume,  who  have  not  heard 
of  Holkar's  sudden  and  gallant  incursion  into  the  Dooab, 
in  the  year  1804,  when  we  thought  that  the  victory  of 
Laswaree  and  the  brilliant  success  at  Deeg  had  completely 
finished  him.  Taking  ten  thousand  horse,  he  broke  up  his 
camp  at  Palimbaug;  and  the  first  thing  General  Lake  heard 
of  him  was,  that  he  was  at  Putna,  then  at  Eumpooge,  then 
at  Doncaradam — he  was,  in  fact,  in  the  very  heart  of  our 
territory. 

"The  unfortunate  part  of  the  affair  was  this: — His  ex- 
cellency, despising  the  Mahratta  chieftain,  had  allowed 
him  to  advance  about  two  thousand  miles  in  his  front,  and 
knew  not  in  the  slightest  degree  where  to  lay  hold  on  him. 
Was  he  at  Hazarubaug?  was  he  at  Bogly  Gunge?  nobody 
knew,  and  for  a  considerable  period  the  movements  of 
Lake's  cavalry  were  quite  ambiguous,  uncertain,  promiscu- 
ous, and  undetermined. 

"  Such  briefly  was  the  state  of  affairs  in  October,  1804. 
At  the  beginning  of  that  month  I  had  been  wounded  (a 
trifling  scratch,  cutting  off  my  left  upper  eyelid,  a  bit  of 

*  I  do  not  wish  to  brag  of  my  style  of  writing,  or  to  pretend  that 
my  genius  as  a  writer  has  not  been  equalled  in  former  times ;  but  if, 
in  the  works  of  Byron,  Scott,  Goethe,  or  Victor  Hugo,  the  reader 
can  find  a  more  beautiful  sentence  than  the  above,  I  will  be  obliged 
to  him,  that  is  all— I  simply  say,  /  mil  be  obliged  to  Idm.—G.  O'G. 
a,  M.  H.  E.  I.  C.  S..  C.  L  H.  A. 


346 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


my  cheek,  and  my  imder-lip),  and  I  was  obliged  to  leave 
Biggs  in  command  of  my  Irregulars,  whilst  I  retired  for  my 
wounds  to  an  English  station  at  Furruckabad,  alias  Futty- 
ghur — it  is,  as  every  twopenny  postman  knows,  at  the  apex 
of  the  Dooab.  We  have  there  a  cantonment,  and  thither  I 
went  for  the  mere  sake  of  the  surgeon  and  the  sticking- 
plaster. 

"Furruckabad,  then,  is  divided  into  two  districts  or 
towns ;  the  lower  Cotwal,  inhabited  by  the  natives,  and  the 
upper  (which  is  fortified  slightly,  and  has  all  along  been 
called  Futtyghur,  meaning  in  Hindostanee  '  the-favourite- 
resort-of-the-white-f aced  -  Feringhees-near-the-mango-tope- 
consecrated-to-Ram  ')  occupied  by  Europeans.  (It  is  aston- 
ishing, by  the  way,  how  comprehensive  that  language  is, 
and  how  much  can  be  conveyed  in  one  or  two  of  the  com- 
monest phrases.) 

"Biggs,  then,  and  my  men  were  playing  all  sorts  of 
wondrous  pranks  with  Lord  Lake's  army,  whilst  I  was  de- 
tained an  unwilling  prisoner  of  health  at  Futtyghur. 

"  An  unwilling  prisoner,  however,  I  should  not  say.  The 
cantonment  at  Futtyghur  contained  that  which  would  have 
made  any  man  a  happy  slave.  Woman,  lovely  woman,  was 
there  in  abundance  and  variety !  The  fact  is,  that,  when 
the  campaign  commenced  in  1803,  the  ladies  of  the  army 
all  congregated  to  this  place,  where  they  were  left,  as  it 
was  supposed,  in  safety.  I  might,  like  Homer,  relate 
the  names  and  qualities  of  all.  I  may  at  least  mention 
some  whose  memory  is  still  most  dear  to  me.  There 
was — 

"Mrs.  Major-General  Bulcher,  wife  of  Bulcher  of  the 
Infantry. 

"Miss  Bulcher. 

"Miss  Belinda  Bulcher  (whose name  I  beg  the  printer 
to  place  in  large  capitals). 

"Mrs.  Colonel  Vandegobbleschroy. 

"  Mrs.  Major  Macan  and  the  four  Misses  Macan. 

"The  Honourable  Mrs.  Burgoo,  Mrs.  Flix,  Hicks,  Wicks, 
and  many  more  too  numerous  to  mention.    The  flower  of 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAK  347 


our  camp  was,  however,  collected  there,  and  the  last  words 
of  Lord  Lake  to  me,  as  I  left  him,  were,  '  Gahagan,  I  com- 
mit those  women  to  your  charge.  Guard  them  with  your 
life,  watch  over  them  with  your  honour,  defend  them  with 
the  matchless  power  of  your  indomitable  arm.' 

"  Futtyghur  is,  as  I  have  said,  a  European  station,  and 
the  pretty  air  of  the  bungalows,  amid  the  clustering  topes 
of  mango-trees,  has  often  ere  this  excited  the  admiration  of 
the  tourist  and  sketcher.  On  the  brow  of  a  hill,  the  Bur- 
rumpooter  river  rolls  majestically  at  its  base,  and  no  spot, 
in  a  word,  can  be  conceived  more  exquisitely  arranged,  both 
by  art  and  nature,  as  a  favourite  residence  of  the  British 
fair.  Mrs.  Bulcher,  Mrs.  Vandegobbleschroy,  and  the 
other  married  ladies  above  mentioned,  had  each  of  them 
delightful  bungalows  and  gardens  in  the  place,  and  between 
one  cottage  and  another  my  time  passed  as  delightfully  as 
can  the  hours  of  any  man  who  is  away  from  his  darling  oc- 
cupation of  war. 

"  I  was  the  commandant  of  the  fort.  It  is  a  little  insig- 
nificant pettah,  defended  simply  by  a  couple  of  gabions,  a 
very  ordinary  counterscarp,  and  a  bomb-proof  embrasure. 
On  the  top  of  this  my  flag  was  planted,  and  the  small  gar- 
rison of  forty  men  only  were  comfortably  barracked  off  in 
the  casemates  within.  A  surgeon  and  two  chaplains  (there 
were  besides  three  reverend  gentlemen  of  amateur  missions, 
who  lived  in  the  town)  completed,  as  I  may  say,  the  gar- 
rison of  our  little  fortalice,  which  I  was  left  to  defend  and 
to  command. 

"On  the  night  of  the  1st  of  November,  in  the  year 
1804,  I  had  invited  Mrs.  Major-General  Bulcher  and  her 
daughters,  Mrs.  Vandegobbleschroy,  and,  indeed,  all  the 
ladies  in  the  cantonment,  to  a  little  festival  in  honour  of 
the  recovery  of  my  health,  of  the  commencement  of  the 
shooting  season,  and  indeed  as  a  farewell  visit,  for  it  was 
my  intention  to  take  dawk  the  very  next  morning  and  return 
to  my  regiment.  The  three  amateur  missionaries  whom  I 
have  mentioned,  and  some  ladies  in  the  cantonment  of  very 
rigid  religious  principles,  refused  to  appear  at  my  little 


348 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


party.  They  had  better  never  have  been  born  than  have 
done  as  they  did,  as  you  shall  hear. 

We  had  been  dancing  merrily  all  night,  and  the  supper 
(chiefly  of  the  delicate  condor,  the  luscious  adjutant,  and 
other  birds  of  a  similar  kind,  which  I  had  shot  in  the 
course  of  the  day)  had  been  duly  feted  by  every  lady  and 
gentleman  present;  when  I  took  an  opportunity  to  retire 
on  the  ramparts,  with  the  interesting  and  lovely  Belinda 
Bulcher.  I  was  occupied,  as  the  French  say,  in  conter-\\\g 
fleurettes  to  this  sweet  young  creature,  when,  all  of  a  sud- 
den, a  rocket  was  seen  whizzing  through  the  air,  and  a 
strong  light  was  visible  in  the  valley  below  the  little  fort. 

"  ^  What,  fireworks!  Captain  Gahagan,'  said  Belinda; 
*  this  is  too  gallant. ' 

^' '  Indeed,  my  dear  Miss  Bulcher,'  said  I,  '  they  are  fire- 
works of  which  I  have  no  idea :  perhaps  our  friends  the 
missionaries  ' 

"  *  Look,  look !  '  said  Belinda,  trembling,  and  clutching 
tightly  hold  of  my  arm:  '  what  do  I  see?  yes — no — yes!  it 
is — our  bungalow  is  in  flames  !  ' 

"  It  was  true,  the  spacious  bungalow  occupied  by  Mrs. 
Major- General  was  at  that  moment  seen  a  prey  to  the  de- 
vouring element — another  and  another  succeeded  it — seven 
bungalows,  before  I  could  almost  ejaculate  the  name  of 
Jack  Eobinson,  were  seen  blazing  brightly  in  the  black 
midnight  air ! 

"  I  seized  my  night-glass,  and  looking  towards  the  spot 
where  the  conflagration  raged,  what  was  my  astonishment 
to  see  thousands  of  black  forms  dancing  round  the  fires; 
whilst  by  their  lights  I  could  observe  columns  after  col- 
umns of  Indian  horse,  arriving  and  taking  up  their  ground 
in  the  very  middle  of  the  open  square  or  tank,  round  which 
the  bungalows  were  bailt ! 

^' '  Ho,  warder ! '  shouted  I  (while  the  frightened  and 
trembling  Belinda  clung  closer  to  my  side,  and  pressed  the 
stalwart  arm  that  encircled  her  waist),  '  down  with  the 
drawbridge!  see  that  your  masolgees  (small  tumbrels 
which  are  used  in  place  of  large  artillery)  be  well  loaded; 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN.  349 


you  sepoys,  hasten  and  man  the  ravelin !  you  choprasees, 
put  out  the  lights  in  the  embrasures !  we  shall  have  warm 
work  of  it  to-night,  or  my  name  is  not  Goliah  Gahagan.' 

"  The  ladies,  the  guests  (to  the  number  of  eighty-three), 
the  sepoys,  choprasees,  masolgees,  and  so  on,  had  all 
crowded  on  the  platform  at  the  sound  of  my  shouting,  and 
dreadful  was  the  consternation,  shrill  the  screaming,  occa- 
sioned by  my  words.  The  men  stood  irresolute  and  mute 
with  terror;  the  women,  trembling,  knew  scarcely  whither 
to  fly  for  refuge.  *Who  are  yonder  ruffians?  '  said  I.  A 
hundred  voices  yelped  in  reply — some  said  the  Pindarees, 
some  said  the  Mahrattas,  some  vowed  it  was  Scindiah,  and 
others  declared  it  was  Holkar — no  one  knew. 

"  ^  Is  there  any  one  here,'  said  I,  ^  who  will  venture  to 
reconnoitre  yonder  troops?  '    There  was  a  dead  pause. 

"  *  A  thousand  tomauns  to  the  man  who  will  bring  me 
news  of  yonder  army ! '  again  I  repeated.  Still  a  dead 
silence.  The  fact  was  that  Scindiah  and  Holkar  both  were 
so  notorious  for  their  cruelty,  that  no  one  dared  venture  to 
face  the  danger.  ^  Oh  for  fifty  of  my  brave  Ahmednug- 
garees !  '  thought  I. 

"  ^  Gentlemen,'  said  I,  '  I  see  it — you  are  cowards — none 
of  you  dare  encounter  the  chance  even  of  death.  It  is  an 
encouraging  prospect — know  you  not  that  the  ruffian  Holkar, 
if  it  be  he,  will  with  the  morrow's  dawn  beleaguer  our  lit- 
tle fort,  and  throw  thousands  of  men  against  our  walls? 
know  you  not  that,  if  we  are  taken,  there  is  no  quarter,  no 
hope;  death  for  us — and  worse  than  death  for  these  lovely 
ones  assembled  here?  '  Here  the  ladies  shrieked  and  raised 
a  howl  as  I  have  heard  the  jackals  on  a  summer's  evening. 
Belinda,  my  dear  Belinda!  flung  both  her  arms  round  me, 
and  sobbed  on  my  shoulder  (or  in  my  waistcoat-pocket 
rather,  for  the  little  witch  could  reach  no  higher). 

"'Captain  Gahagan,'  sobbed  she,  *  Go — Go — Goggle — 
iahf 

"  '  My  soul's  adored! '  replied  I. 

Swear  to  me  one  thing.' 
"  *  I  swear.' 


350  THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


^  That  if — that  if — the  nasty,  horrid,  odious  black  Mah- 
ra-a-a-attahs  take  the  fort,  you  will  put  me  out  of  their 
power. ' 

^'  I  clasped  the  dear  girl  to  my  heart,  and  swore  upon  my 
sword  that,  rather  than  she  should  incur  the  risk  of  dis- 
honour, she  should  perish  by  my  own  hand.  This  com- 
forted her;  and  her  mother,  Mrs.  Major- General  Bulcher, 
and  her  elder  sister,  who  had  not  until  now  known  a  word 
of  our  attachment  (indeed,  but  for  these  extraordinary  cir- 
cumstances, it  is  probable  that  we  ourselves  should  never 
have  discovered  it),  were  under  these  painful  circumstances 
made  aware  of  my  beloved  Belinda's  partiality  for  me. 
Having  communicated  thus  her  wish  of  self-destruction,  I 
thought  her  example  a  touching  and  excellent  one,  and  pro- 
posed to  all  the  ladies  that  they  should  follow  it,  and  that 
at  the  entry  of  the  enemy  into  the  fort,  and  at  a  signal 
given  by  me,  they  should  one  and  all  make  away  with 
themselves.  Fancy  my  disgust  when,  after  making  this 
proposition,  not  one  of  the  ladies  chose  to  accede  to  it,  and 
received  it  with  the  same  chilling  denial  that  my  former 
proposal  to  the  garrison  had  met  with. 

In  the  midst  of  this  hurry  and  confusion,  as  if  pur- 
posely to  add  to  it,  a  trumpet  was  heard  at  the  gate  of  the 
fort,  and  one  of  the  sentinels  came  running  to  me,  saying 
that  a  Mahratta  soldier  was  before  the  gate  with  a  flag  of 
truce ! 

"I  went  down,  rightly  conjecturing,  as  it  turned  out, 
that  the  party,  whoever  they  might  be,  had  no  artillery; 
and  received  at  the  point  of  my  sword  a  scroll,  of  which 
the  following  is  a  translation : — 

"^TO  GOLIAH  GAHAGAN  GUJPUTL 

"  *Lord  of  Elephants,  Sir, — I  have  the  honour  to  in- 
form you  that  I  arrived  before  this  place  at  eight  o'clock 
P.M.  with  ten  thousand  cavalry  under  my  orders.  I  have 
burned,  since  my  arrival,  seventeen  bungalows  in  Furrucka- 
bad  and  Futtyghur,  and  have  likewise  been  under  the  pain- 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAI^T.  351 


ful  necessity  of  putting  to  death  three  clergymen  (mollahs), 
and  seven  English  officers,  whom  I  found  in  the  village; 
the  women  have  been  transferred  to  safe  keeping  in  the 
harems  of  my  officers  and  myself. 

^  As  I  know  your  courage  and  talents,  I  shall  be  very 
happy  if  you  will  surrender  the  fortress,  and  take  service 
as  a  major-general  (hookabadar)  in  my  army.  Should  my 
proposal  not  meet  with  your  assent,  I  beg  leave  to  state 
that  to-morrow  I  shall  storm  the  fort,  and  on  taking  it, 
shall  put  to  death  every  male  in  the  garrison,  and  every 
female  above  twenty  years  of  age.  For  yourself  I  shall 
reserve  a  punishment,  which  for  novelty  and  exquisite  tor- 
-  ture  has,  I  flatter  myself,  hardly  ever  been  exceeded. 
Awaiting  the  favour  of  a  reply,  I  am.  Sir, 

"  ^  Your  very  obedient  servant, 

*  Jaswunt  Eow  Holkar. 
^' '  Camp  before  Ftittyghitr,  Sept,  1,  180 Jf.. 

" '  R.  s.  V,  p: 

"  The  officer  who  had  brought  this  precious  epistle  (it  is 
astonishing  how  Holkar  had  aped  the  forms  of  English 
correspondence),  an  enormous  Pitan  soldier,  with  a  shirt  of 
mail,  and  a  steel  cap  and  cape,  round  which  his  turban 
wound,  was  leaning  against  the  gate  on  his  matchlock,  and 
whistling  a  national  melody.  I  read  the  letter,  and  saw 
at  once  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost.  That  man,  thought 
I,  must  never  go  back  to  Holkar.  Were  he  to  attack  us 
now  before  we  were  prepared,  the  fort  would  be  his  in  half 
an  hour. 

Tying  my  white  pocket-handkerchief  to  a  stick,  I  flung 
open  the  gate  and  advanced  to  the  officer;  he  was  standing, 
I  said,  on  the  little  bridge  across  the  moat.  I  made  him  a 
low  salaam,  after  the  fashion  of  the  country,  and,  as  he 
bent  forward  to  return  the  compliment,  I  am  sorry  to  say, 
I  plunged  forward,  gave  him  a  violent  blow  on  the  head 
which  deprived  him  of  all  sensation,  and  then  dragged  him 
within  the  wall,  raising  the  drawbridge  after  me. 

"I  bore  the  body  into  my  own  apartment;  there,  swift 


352  THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


as  thought,  I  stripped  him  of  his  turban,  cammerbund, 
peijammahs,  and  papooshes,  and,  putting  them  on  myself, 
determined  to  go  forth  and  reconnoitre  the  enemy. 

#  #  #  =)^=  # 

Here  I  was  obliged  to  stop,  for  Cabrera,  Eos  d'Eroles, 
and  the  rest  of  the  staff,  were  sound  asleep !  What  I  did 
in  my  reconnaissance,  and  how  I  defended  the  fort  of 
Futtyghur,  I  shall  have  the  honour  of  telling  on  another 
occasion. 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN.  353 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  INDIAN  CAMP— THE  SORTIE  FROM  THE  FORT. 

Head  Quarters,  Morella,  October  S,  18S8. 

It  is  a  balmy  night.  I  hear  the  merry  jingle  of  the 
tambourine,  and  the  cheery  voices  of  the  girls  and  peasants, 
as  they  dance  beneath  my  casement,  under  the  shadow  of 
the  clustering  vines.  The  laugh  and  song  pass  gaily  round, 
and  even  at  this  distance  I  can  distinguish  the  elegant  form 
of  Ramon  Cabrera,  as  he  whispers  gay  nothings  in  the  ears 
of  the  Andalusian  girls,  or  joins  in  the  thrilling  chorus  of 
Eiego's  hymn,  which  is  ever  and  anon  vociferated  by  the 
enthusiastic  soldiery  of  Carlos  Quinto.  I  am  alone,  in  the 
most  inaccessible  and  most  bomb-proof  tower  of  our  little 
fortalice;  the  large  casements  are  open — the  wind,  as  it 
enters,  whispers  in  my  ear  its  odorous  recollections  of  the 
orange  grove  and  the  myrtle  bower.  My  torch  (a  branch 
of  the  fragrant  cedar-tree)  flares  and  flickers  in  the  mid- 
night breeze,  and  disperses  its  scent  and  burning  splinters 
on  my  scroll  and  the  desk  where  I  write — meet  implements 
for  a  soldier's  authorship! — it  is  cartridge  paper  over  which 
my  pen  runs  so  glibly,  and  a  yawning  barrel  of  gunpowder 
forms  my  rough  writing-table.  Around  me,  below  me, 
above  me,  all — all  is  peace !  I  think,  as  I  sit  here  so  Jonely, 
on  my  country,  England !  and  muse  over  the  sweet  and  bit- 
ter recollections  of  my  early  days !  Let  me  resume  my 
narrative,  at  the  point  where  (interrupted  by  the  authorita- 
tive summons  of  war)  I  paused  on  the  last  occasion. 

I  left  off,  I  think  (for  I  am  a  thousand  miles  away 
from  proof-sheets  as  I  write — and,  were  I  not  writing  the 
simple  TRUTH,  must  contradict  myself  a  thousand  times  in 
the  course  of  my  tale,)  I  think,  I  say,  that  I  left  off  at  that 
period  of  my  story,  when,  Holkar  being  before  Futtyghur, 
and  I  in  command  of  that  fortress,  I  had  just  been  com- 


354 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


pelled  to  make  away  with  his  messenger;  and,  dressed  in 
the  fallen  Indian's  accoutrements,  went  forth  to  reconnoitre 
the  force,  and,  if  possible,  to  learn  the  intentions  of  the 
enemy.  However  much  my  figure  might  have  resembled 
that  of  the  Pitan,  and,  disguised  in  his  armour,  might  have 
deceived  the  lynx-eyed  Mahrattas,  into  whose  camp  I  was 
about  to  plunge,  it  was  evident  that  a  single  glance  at  my 
fair  face  and  auburn  beard  would  have  undeceived  the  dull- 
est blockhead  in  Holkar's  army.  Seizing,  then,  a  bottle  of 
Burgess's  walnut  catsup,  I  dyed  my  face  and  my  hands, 
and,  with  the  simple  aid  of  a  flask  of  Warren's  jet,  I  made 
my  hair  and  beard  as  black  as  ebony.  The  Indian's  helmet 
and  chain  hood  covered  likewise  a  great  part  of  my  face, 
and  I  hoped  thus,  with  luck,  impudence,  and  a  complete 
command  of  all  the  Eastern  dialects  and  languages,  from 
Burmah  to  Afghanistan,  to  pass  scot-free  through  this  some- 
what dangerous  ordeal. 

I  had  not  the  word  of  the  night,  it  is  true — but  I  trusted 
to  good  fortune  for  that,  and  passed  boldly  out  of  the  for- 
tress, bearing  the  flag  of  truce  as  before;  I  had  scarcely 
passed  on  a  couple  of  hundred  yards,  when,  lo !  a  party  of 
Indian  horsemen,  armed  like  him  I  had  just  overcome, 
trotted  towards  me.  One  was  leading  a  noble  white  charger, 
and  no  sooner  did  he  see  me  than,  dismounting  from  his 
own  horse,  and  giving  the  rein  to  a  companion,  he  advanced 
to  meet  me  with  the  charger;  a  second  fellow  likewise  dis- 
mounted and  followed  the  first;  one  held  the  bridle  of  the 
horse,  while  the  other  (with  a  multitude  of  salaams,  alei- 
kums,  and  other  genuflexions,)  held  the  jewelled  stirrup, 
and  kneeling,  waited  until  I  should  mount. 

I  took  the  hint  at  once :  the  Indian  who  had  come  up  to 
the  fort  was  a  great  man — that  was  evident;  I  walked  on 
with  a  majestic  air,  gathered  up  the  velvet  reins,  and  sprung 
into  the  magnificent  high-peaked  saddle.  "Buk,  buk," 
said  I,  "  it  is  good.  In  the  name  of  the  forty-nine  Imaums, 
let  us  ride  on;  "  and  the  whole  party  set  off  at  a  brisk 
trot,  I  keeping  silence,  and  thinking  with  no  little  trepi- 
dation of  what  I  was  about  to  encounter. 


THE  LIFE  OP  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


355 


As  we  rode  along,  I  heard  two  of  the  men  commenting 
upon  my  unusual  silence  Cfor  I  suppose,  I — that  is  the  In- 
dian— was  a  talkative  oflQcer) .  "  The  lips  of  the  Bahawder 
are  closed,"  said  one.  Where  are  those  birds  of  Para- 
dise,  his  long-tailed  words?  they  are  imprisoned  between 
the  golden  bars  of  his  teeth ! " 

^^Kush,"  said  his  companion,  ^^be  quiet!  Bobbachy  Ba- 
hawder  has  seen  the  dreadful  Feringhee,  Gahagan  Khan 
Gujputi,  the  elephant-lord,  whose  sword  reaps  the  harvest 
of  death;  there  is  but  one  champion  who  can  wear  the  pa- 
pooshes  of  the  elephant-slayer — it  is  Bobbachy  Bahawder !  "  ~ 

"  You  speak  truly,  Puneeree  Muckun,  the  Bahawder  ru- 
minates on  the  words  of  the  unbeliever :  he  is  an  ostrich, 
and  hatches  the  eggs  of  his  thoughts. 

"  Bekhusm !  on  my  nose  be  it !    May  the  young  birds, 
his  actions,  be  strong  and  swift  in  flight.'' 

May  they  digest  iron !  "  said  Puneeree  Muckun,  who 
was  evidently  a  wag  in  his  way. 

^^0,  ho!  "  thought  I,  as  suddenly  the  light  flashed  upon 
me.  ^^It  was,  then,  the  famous  Bobbachy  Bahawder, 
whom  I  overcame  just  now !  and  he  is  the  man  destined  to 
stand  in  my  slippers,  is  he?  ''  and  I  was  at  that  very  mo- 
ment standing  in  his  own!  Such  are  the  chances  and 
changes  that  fall  to  the  lot  of  the  soldier ! 

I  suppose  everybody — everybody  who  has  been  in  India, 
at  least — has  heard  the  name  of  Bobbachy  Bahawder;  it  is 
derived  from  the  two  Hindostanee  words — hohhachy,  gen- 
eral; bahawder,  artilleryman.  He  had  entered  into  Hol- 
kar's  service  in  the  latter  capacity,  and  had,  by  his  merit 
and  his  undaunted  bravery  in  action,  attained  the  dignity 
of  the  peacock's  feather,  which  is  only  granted  to  noblemen 
of  the  first  class;  he  was  married,  moreover,  to  one  of  Hol- 
kar's  innumerable  daughters;  a  match  which,  according  to 
the  Chronique  Scandaleuse,  brought  more  of  honour  than 
of  pleasure  to  the  poor  Bobbachy.  Gallant  as  he  was  in 
the  field,  it  was  said  that  in  the  harem  he  was  the  veriest 
craven  alive — completely  subjugated  by  his  ugly  and  odious 
wife.    In  all  matters  of  importance  the  late  Bahawder 


356 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAK 


had  been  consulted  by  his  prince,  who  had,  as  it  appears 
(knowing  my  character,  and  not  caring  to  do  anything  rash 
in  his  attack  upon  so  formidable  an  enemy),  sent  forward 
the  unfortunate  Pitan  to  reconnoitre  the  fort;  he  was  to 
have  done  yet  more,  as  I  learned  from  the  attendant  Punee- 
ree  Muckun,  who  was,  I  soon  found  out,  an  old  favourite 
with  the  Bobbachy — doubtless  on  account  of  his  honesty 
and  love  of  repartee. 

"The  Bahawder's  lips  are  closed,"  said  he,  at  last,  trot- 
ting up  to  me;  "has  he  not  a  word  for  old  Puneeree  Muc- 
kun? " 

"  Bismillah,  mashallah,  barikallah,"  said  T ;  which  means, 
"  My  good  friend,  what  I  have  seen  is  not  worth  the  trouble 
of  relation,  and  fills  my  bosom  with  the  darkest  forebod- 
ings." 

"  You  could  not  then  see  the  Gujputi  alone,  and  stab  him 
with  your  dagger?  " 

[Here  was  a  pretty  conspiracy !]  "  ISTo,  I  saw  him,  but 
not  alone;  his  people  were  always  with  him." 

"  Hurrumzadeh !  it  is  a  pity;  we  waited  but  the  sound  of 
your  jogree  (whistle),  and  straightway  would  have  galloped 
up  and  seized  upon  every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  the 
fort :  however,  there  are  but  a  dozen  men  in  the  garrison, 
and  they  have  not  provision  for  two  days — they  must 
yield;  and  then  hurrah  for  the  moon-faces!  Mashallah!  I 
am  told  the  soldiers  who  first  get  in  are  to  have  their  pick. 
How  my  old  woman,  Eotee  Muckun,  will  be  surprised  when 
I  bring  home  a  couple  of  Feringhee  wives, — ha!  ha!  " 

"  Fool !  "  said  I,  "  be  still ! — twelve  men  in  the  garrison ! 
there  are  twelve  hundred !  Gahagan  himself  is  as  good  as 
a  thousand  men;  and  as  for  food,  I  saw,  with  my  own  eyes, 
five  hundred  bullocks  grazing  in  the  courtyard  as  I  entered." 
This  ivas  a  bouncer,  I  confess;  but  my  object  was  to  deceive 
Puneeree  Muckun,  and  give  him  as  high  a  notion  as  possi- 
ble of  the  capabilities  of  defence  which  the  besieged  had. 

"Pooch,  pooch,"  murmured  the  men;  "it  is  a  wonder  of 
a  fortress;  we  shall  never  be  able  to  take  it  until  our  guns 
come  up.'^ 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAIST. 


357 


There  was  hope  then!  they  had  no  battering  train.  Ere 
this  arrived,  I  trusted  that  Lord  Lake  would  hear  of  our 
plight,  and  march  down  to  rescue  us.  Thus  occupied  in 
thought  and  conversation,  we  rode  on  until  the  advanced 
sentinel  challenged  us,  when  old  Puneeree  gave  the  word, 
and  we  passed  on  into  the  centre  of  Holkar's  camp. 

It  was  a  strange — a  stirring  sight!  The  camp-fires  were 
lighted;  and  round  them — eating,  reposing,  talking,  look- 
ing at  the  merry  steps  of  the  dancing- girls,  or  listening  to 
the  stories  of  some  Dhol  Baut  (or  Indian  improvisatore) — 
were  thousands  of  dusky  soldiery.  The  camels  and  horses 
were  picketed  under  the  banyan  trees,  on  which  the  ripe 
mango  fruit  was  growing,  and  offered  them  an  excellent 
food.  Towards  the  spot  which  the  golden  fish  and  royal 
purdahs,  floating  in  the  wind,  designated  as  the  tent  of 
Holkar,  led  an  immense  avenue — of  elephants !  the  finest 
street,  indeed,  I  ever  saw.  Each  of  the  monstrous  animals 
had  a  castle  on  its  back,  armed  with  Mauritanian  archers 
and  the  celebrated  Persian  matchlock-men :  it  was  the  feed- 
ing time  of  these  royal  brutes,  and  the  grooms  were  ob- 
served bringing  immense  toffungs,  or  baskets,  filled  with 
pineapples,  plantains,  bananas,  Indian  corn,  and  cocoa-nuts, 
which  grow  luxuriantly  at  all  seasons  of  the  year.  We 
passed  down  this  extraordinary  avenue — no  less  than  three 
hundred  and  eighty-eight  tails  did  I  count  on  each  side — 
each  tail  appertaining  to  an  elephant  twenty -five  feet  high 
— each  elephant  having  a  two-storied  castle  on  its  back — 
each  castle  containing  sleeping  and  eating  rooms  for  the 
twelve  men  that  formed  its  garrison,  and  were  keeping  watch 
on  the  roof — each  roof  bearing  a  flag-staff  twenty  feet  long 
on  its  top,  the  crescent  glittering  with  a  thousand  gems, 
and  round  it  the  imperial  standard, — each  standard,  of  silk 
velvet  and  cloth  of  gold,  bearing  the  well-known  device  of 
Holkar,  argent  an  or  gules,  between  a  sinople  of  the  first,  a 
chevron,  truncated,  wavy.  I  took  nine  of  these  myself  in 
the  course  of  a  very  short  time  after,  and  shall  be  happy, 
when  I  come  to  England,  to  shew  them  to  any  gentleman 
who  has  a  curiosity  that  way.    Through  this  gorgeous  scene 


358  THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


our  little  cavalcade  passed,  and  at  last  we  arrived  at  the 
quarters  occupied  by  Holkar. 

That  celebrated  chieftain's  tents  and  followers  were  gath- 
ered round  one  of  the  British  bungalows  which  had  escaped 
the  flames,  and  which  he  occupied  during  the  siege.  When 
I  entered  the  large  room  where  he  sate,  I  found  him  in  the 
midst  of  a  council  of  war;  his  chief  generals  and  viziers 
seated  round  him,  each  smoking  his  hookah,  as  is  the  com- 
mon way  with  these  black  fellows,  before,  at,  and  after 
breakfast,  dinner,  supper,  and  bedtime.  There  was  such 
a  cloud  raised  by  their  smoke  you  could  hardly  see  a  yard 
before  you — another  piece  of  good  luck  for  me — as  it  dimin- 
ished the  chances  of  my  detection.  When,  with  the  ordi- 
nary ceremonies,  the  kitmutgars  and  consomahs  had  ex- 
plained to  the  prince  that  Bobbachy  Bahawder,  the  right 
eye  of  the  Sun  of  the  universe  (as  the  ignorant  heathens 
called  me),  had  arrived  from  his  mission,  Holkar  immedi- 
ately summoned  me  to  the  maidaun,  or  elevated  platform, 
on  which  he  was  seated  in  a  luxurious  easy-chair,  and  I, 
instantly  taking  off  my  slippers,  falling  on  my  knees,  and 
beating  my  head  against  the  ground  ninety-nine  times,  pro- 
ceeded, still  on  my  knees,  a  hundred  and  twenty  feet 
through  the  room,  and  then  up  the  twenty  steps  which  led 
to  his  maidaun — a  silly,  painful,  and  disgusting  ceremony, 
which  can  only  be  considered  as  a  relic  of  barbarian  dark- 
ness, which  tears  the  knees  and  shins  to  pieces,  let  alone 
the  pantaloons.  I  recommend  anybody  who  goes  to  India, 
with  the  prospect  of  entering  the  service  of  the  native  ra- 
jahs, to  recollect  my  advice,  and  have  them  well  wadded. 

Well,  the  right  eye  of  the  Sun  of  the  universe  scrambled 
as  well  as  he  could  up  the  steps  of  the  maidaun  (on  which, 
in  rows,  smoking  as  I  have  said,  the  musnuds  or  general 
officers  were  seated),  and  I  arrived  within  speaking-distance 
of  Holkar,  who  instantly  asked  me  the  success  of  my  mis- 
sion. The  impetuous  old  man  thereon  poured  out  a  multi- 
tude of  questions :  "  How  many  men  are  there  in  the  fort?  " 
said  he;  "how  many  women?  Is  it  victualled?  have  they 
ammunition?    Did  you  see  Gahagan  Sahib,  the  commander? 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN.  359 


did  you  kill  him?''  All  these  questions  Jeswunt  Eow 
Holkar  puffed  out  with  so  many  whiffs  of  tobacco. 

Taking  a  chillum  myself,  and  raising  about  me  such  a 
cloud  that,  upon  my  honour  as  a  gentleman,  no  man  at 
three  yards'  distance  could  perceive  anything  of  me  except 
the  pillar  of  smoke  in  which  I  was  encompassed,  I  told 
Holkar,  in  Oriental  language  of  course,  the  best  tale  I  could 
with  regard  to  the  fort. 

"Sir,"  said  I,  "to  answer  your  last  question  first — that 
dreadful  Gujputi  I  have  seen — and  he  is  alive :  he  is  eight 
feet,  nearly,  in  height;  he  can  eat  a  bullock  daily  (of  which 
he  has  seven  hundred  at  present  in  the  compound,  and 
swears  that  during  the  siege  he  will  content  himself  with 
only  three  a-week)  :  he  has  lost,  in  battle,  his  left  eye; 
and  what  is  the  consequence?  0  Ram  Gunge  "  (O  thou- 
with-the-eye-as-bright-as-morning  and-with-beard-as-black- 
as-night),  "Goliah  Gujputi — never  sleeps!  " 

"Ah,  you  Ghorumsaug"  (you  thief  of  the  world),  said 
the  Prince  Vizier,  Saadut  Allee  Beg  Bimbukchee — "it's 
jokmg  you  are;  " — and  there  was  a  universal  buzz  through 
the  room  at  the  announcement  of  this  bouncer. 

"By  the  hundred  and  eleven  incarnations  of  Vishnou," 
said  I,  solemnly  (an  oath  which  no  Indian  was  ever  known 
to  break),  "I  swear  that  so  it  is;  so  at  least  he  told  me, 
and  I  have  good  cause  to  know  his  power.  Gujputi  is  an 
enchanter,  he  is  leagued  with  devils,  he  is  invulnerable. 
Look,"  said  I,  unsheathing  my  dagger,  and  every  eye  turned 
instantly  towards  me — "thrice  did  I  stab  him  with  this 
steel — in  the  back,  once — twice  right  through  the  heart; 
but  he  only  laughed  me  to  scorn,  and  bade  me  tell  Holkar 
that  the  steel  was  not  yet  forged  which  was  to  inflict  an  in- 
jury upon  him." 

I  never  saw  a  man  in  such  a  rage  as  Holkar  was  when  I 
gave  him  this  somewhat  imprudent  message. 

"  Ah,  lily-livered  rogue ! "  shouted  he  out  to  me,  "  milk- 
blooded  unbeliever!  pale-faced  miscreant!  lives  he  after 
insulting  thy  master  in  thy  presence?  In  the  name  of  the 
Prophet,  I  spit  on  thee,  defy  thee,  abhor  thee,  degrade 

i6 — Vol.  19 


360 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


thee !  Take  that,  thou  liar  of  the  universe !  and  that — and 
that— and  that!'' 

Such  are  the  frightful  excesses  of  barbaric  minds !  every 
time  this  old  man  said,  ^^Take  that,"  he  flung  some  article 
near  him  at  the  head  of  the  undaunted  Gahagan — his  dag- 
ger, his  sword,  his  carbine,  his  richly  ornamented  pistols, 
his  turban  covered  with  jewels,  worth  a  hundred  thousand 
crores  of  rupees — finally,  his  hookah,  snake  mouth-piece, 
silver  bell,  chillum  and  all — which  went  hissing  over  my 
head  and  flattening  into  a  jelly  the  nose  of  the  Grand 
Vizier. 

"  Yock  muzzee !  my  nose  is  off,''  said  the  old  man,  mildly. 
"  Will  you  have  my  life,  O  Holkar?  it  is  thine  likewise!  '^ 
and  no  other  word  of  complaint  escaped  his  lips. 

Of  all  these  missiles,  though  a  pistol  and  carbine  had  gone- 
off  as  the  ferocious  Indian  flung  them  at  my  head,  and  the 
naked  scimitar,  fiercely  but  unadroitly  thrown,  had  lopped 
off  the  limbs  of  one  or  two  of  the  musnuds  as  they  sat  trem- 
bling on  their  omrahs,  yet,  strange  to  say,  not  a  single 
weapon  had  hurt  me.  When  the  hubbub  ceased,  and  the 
unlucky  wretches  who  had  been  the  victims  of  this  fit  of 
rage  had  been  removed,  Holkar' s  good-humour  somewhat 
returned,  and  he  allowed  me  to  continue  my  account  of  the 
fort;  which  I  did,  not  taking  the  slightest  notice  of  his 
burst  of  impatience,  as  indeed  it  would  have  been  the 
height  of  impoliteness  to  have  done,  for  such  accidents  hap- 
pened many  times  in  the  day. 

"It  is  well  that  the  Bobbachy  has  returned,"  snuffled  out 
the  poor  Grand  Vizier,  after  I  had  explained  to  the  council 
the  extraordinary  means  of  defence  possessed  by  the  garri- 
son. "Your  star  is  bright,  0  Bahawder!  for  this  very 
night  we  had  resolved  upon  an  escalade  of  the  fort,  and  we 
had  sworn  to  put  every  one  of  the  infidel  garrison  to  the 
edge  of  the  sword." 

"But  you  have  no  battering  train,"  said  I. 

"Bah!  we  have  a  couple  of  ninety-six  pounders,  quite 
suSicient  to  blow  the  gates  open;  and  then,  hey  for  a 
charge !  "  said  Loll  Mahommed,  a  general  of  cavalry,  who 


THE  LIFE  OP  MAJOR  GAHAGAN.  361 


was  a  rival  of  Bobbachy^s,  and  contradicted,  therefore, 
every  word  I  said.  "In  the  name  of  Juggernaut,  why  wait 
for  the  heavy  artillery?  Have  we  not  swords?  Have  we 
not  hearts?  Mashallah !  Let  cravens  stay  with  Bobbachy, 
all  true  men  will  follow  Loll  Mahommed!  Allahhumdil- 
lah,  Bismillah,  Barikallah?  and  drawing  his  scimitar,  he 
waved  it  over  his  head,  and  shouted  out  his  cry  of  battle. 
It  was  repeated  by  many  of  the  other  omrahs;  the  sound 
of  their  cheers  was  carried  into  the  camp,  and  caught  up 
by  the  men;  the  camels  began  to  cry,  the  horses  to  prance 
and  neigh,  the  eight  hundred  elephants  set  up  a  scream, 
the  trumpeters  and  drummers  clanged  away  at  their  instru- 
ments. I  never  heard  such  a  din  before  or  after.  How 
I  trembled  for  my  little  garrison  when  I  heard  the  enthu- 
siastic cries  of  this  innumerable  host ! 

There  was  but  one  way  for  it.  "Sir,^'  said  I,  addressing 
Holkar,  "go  out  to-night,  and  you  go  to  certain  death. 
Loll  Mahommed  has  not  seen  the  fort  as  I  have.  Pass  the 
gate  if  you  please,  and  for  what?  to  fall  before  the  fire  of 
a  hundred  pieces  of  artillery;  to  storm  another  gate,  and 
then  another,  and  then  to  be  blown  up,  with  Gahagan^s 
garrison  in  the  citadel.  Who  talks  of  courage?  Were  I 
not  in  your  august  presence,  O  star  of  the  faithful,  I  would 
crop  Loll  Mahommed' s  nose  from  his  face,  and  wear  his 
ears  as  an  ornament  in  my  own  pugree !  Who  is  there  here 
that  knows  not  the  difference  between  yonder  yellow- 
skinned  coward  and  Gahagan  Khan  Guj — I  mean  Bobbachy 
Bahawder?  I  am  ready  to  fight  one,  two,  three,  or  twenty 
of  them,  at  broad-sword,  small-sword,  single-stick,  with 
fists,  if  you  please.  By  the  holy  piper,  fighting  is  like 
mate  and  dthrink  to  Ga — to  Bobbachy,  I  mane— whoop! 
come  on,  you  divvle,  and  I'll  bate  the  skin  off  your  ugly 
bones.'' 

This  speech  had  very  nearly  proved  fatal  to  me,  for, 
when  I  am  agitated,  I  involuntarily  adopt  some  of  the 

*  The  Major  lias  put  the  most  approved  language  into  the  mouths 
of  his  Indian  characters.  Bismillah,  Barikallah,  and  so  on,  accord- 
ing to  the  novelists,  form  the  very  essence  of  Eastern  conversation. 


362 


THE  LIFE  OP  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


phraseology  peculiar  to  my  own  country;  which  is  so  un- 
eastern,  that,  had  there  been  any  suspicion  as  to  my  real 
character,  detection  must  indubitably  have  ensued.  As  it 
was,  Holkar  perceived  nothing,  but  instantaneously  stopped' 
the  dispute.  Loll  Mahommed,  however,  evidently  suspected 
something,  for,  as  Holkar,  with  a  voice  of  thunder,  shouted 
out,  "Tomasha,'^  (silence,)  Loll  sprung  forward  and  gasped 
out — 

''My  Lord!  my  Lord!  this  is  not  Bob  

But  he  could  say  no  more.  "  Gag  the  slave !  "  screamed 
out  Holkar,  stamping  with  fury;  and  a  turban  was  instantly 
twisted  round  the  poor  devil's  jaws.  "  Ho,  f  uroshes !  carry 
out  Loll  Mahommed  Khan,  give  him  a  hundred  dozen 
on  the  soles  of  his  feet,  set  him  upon  a  white  donkey, 
and  carry  him  round  the  camp,  with  an  inscription  be- 
fore him :  '  This  is  the  way  that  Holkar  rewards  the  talk- 
ative.' " 

I  breathed  again;  and  ever  as  I  heard  each  whack  of  the 
bamboo  falling  on  Loll  Mahommed' s  feet,  I  felt  peace  re- 
turning to  my  mind,  and  thanked  my  stars  that  I  was  de- 
livered of  this  danger. 

"Vizier,"  said  Holkar,  who  enjoyed  Loll's  roars  amaz- 
ingly, "  I  owe  you  a  reparation  for  your  nose :  kiss  the  hand 
of  your  prince,  O  Saadat  Allee  Beg  Bimbukchee  I  be  from 
this  day  forth  Zoheir  u  Dowlut !  " 

The  good  old  man's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  "I  can  bear 
thy  severity,  O  Prince,"  said  he;  ''I  cannot  bear  thy  love. 
Was  it  not  an  honour  that  your  highness  did  me  just  now, 
when  you  condescended  to  pass  over  the  bridge  of  your 
slave's  nose?  " 

The  phrase  was  by  all  voices  pronounced  to  be  very  po- 
etical. The  Vizier  retired,  crowned  with  his  new  honours, 
to  bed.    Holkar  was  in  high  good-humour. 

"Bobbachy,"  said  he,  "thou,  too,  must  pardon  me;  a 
propos — I  have  news  for  thee.  Your  wife,  the  incompara- 
ble Puttee  Eooge,  (white  and  red  rose,)  has  arrived  in 
camp." 

"  My  wife,  my  Lord !  "  said  I,  aghast. 


THE  LIFE  OP  MAJOR  GAHAGAN,  363 

^^Our  daughter,  the  light  of  thine  eyes!  Go,  my  son; 
I  see  thou  art  wild  with  joy.  The  princess's  tents  are 
set  up  close  by  mine,  and  I  know  thou  longest  to  join 
her." 

My  wife !    Here  was  a  complication  truly ! 


364  THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAK 


CHAPTEK  V. 

THE  ISSUE  OF  MY  INTERVIEW  WITH  MY  WIFE. 

I  FOUND  Puneeree  Muckun,  with  tlie  rest  of  my  attend- 
ants, waiting  at  the  gate,  and  they  immediately  conducted 
me  to  my  own  tents  in  the  neighbour liood.  I  have  been  in 
many  dangerous  predicaments  before  that  time  and  since, 
but  I  don't  care  to  deny  that  I  felt  in  the  present  instance 
such  a  throbbing  of  the  heart  as  1  never  have  experienced 
when  leading  a  forlorn  hope,  or  marching  up  to  a  battery. 

As  soon  as  I  entered  the  tents  a  host  of  menials  sprung 
forward,  some  to  ease  me  of  my  armour,  some  to  offer  me 
refreshments,  some  with  hookahs,  attar  of  roses  (in  great 
quart  bottles),  and  the  thousand  delicacies  of  Eastern  life. 
I  motioned  them  away.    "I  will  wear  my  armour,''  said  I; 

I  shall  go  forth  to-night :  carry  my  duty  to  the  princess, 
and  say  I  grieve  that  to-night  I  Have  not  the  time  to  see 
her.  Spread  me  a  couch  here,  and  bring  me  supper  here : 
a  jar  of  Persian  wine  well  cooled,  a  lamb  stuffed  with  pis- 
tachio-nuts, a  pillaw  of  a  couple  of  turkeys,  a  curried  kid 
— anything.  Begone!  Give  me  a  pipe;  leave  me  alone, 
and  tell  me  when  the  meal  is  ready." 

I  thought  by  these  means  to  put  off  the  fair  Puttee  Eooge, 
and  hoped  to  be  able  to  escape  without  subjecting  myself 
to  the  examination  of  her  curious  eyes.  After  smoking  for 
a  while,  an  attendant  came  to  tell  me  that  my  supper  was 
prepared  in  the  inner  apartment  of  the  tent  (I  suppose  that 
the  reader,  if  he  be  possessed  of  the  commonest  intelligence, 
knows  that  the  tents  of  the  Indian  grandees  are  made  of 
the  finest  Cashmere  shawls,  and  contain  a  dozen  rooms  at 
least,  with  carpets,  chimneys,  and  sash  windows  complete). 
I  entered,  I  say,  into  an  inner  chamber,  and  there  began 
with  my  fingers  to  devour  my  meal  in  the  Oriental  fashion, 
taking,  every  now  and  then,  a  pull  from  the  wine-jar,  which 
was  cooling  deliciously  in  another  jar  of  snow. 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN.  365 


I  was  just  in  the  act  of  despatching  the  last  morsel  of  a 
most  savoury  stewed  lamb  and  rice,  which  had  formed  my 
meal,  when  I  heard  a  scuffle  of  feet,  a  shrill  clatter  of  fe- 
male voices,  and,  the  curtain  being  flung  open,  in  marched 
a  lady  accompanied  by  twelve  slaves,  with  moon-faces  and 
slim  waists,  lovely  as  the  houris  in  Paradise. 

The  lady  herself,  to  do  her  justice,  was  as  great  a  con- 
trast to  her  attendants  as  could  possibly  be;  she  was  crook- 
ed, old,  of  the  complexion  of  molasses,  and  rendered  a 
thousand  times  more  ugly  by  the  tawdry  dress  and  the  blaz- 
ing jewels  with  which  she  was  covered.  A  line  of  yellow 
chalk  drawn  from  her  forehead  to  the  tip  of  her  nose  (which 
was  further  ornamented  by  an  immense  glittering  nose- 
ring), her  eyelids  painted  bright  red,  and  a  large  dab  of  the 
same  colour  on  her  chin,  showed  she  was  not  of  the  Mus- 
sulman, but  the  Brahmin  faith — and  of  a  very  high  caste; 
you  could  see  that  by  her  eyes.  My  mind  was  instanta- 
neously made  up  as  to  my  line  of  action. 

The  male  attendants  had  of  course  quitted  the  apartment, 
as  they  heard  the  well-known  sound  of  her  voice.  It  would 
have  been  death  to  them  to  have  remained  and  looked  in 
her  face.  The  females  ranged  themselves  round  their  mis- 
tress, as  she  squatted  down  opposite  to  me. 

And  is  this,'^  said  she,  "a  welcome,  0  Khan!  after  six 
months'  absence,  for  the  most  unfortunate  and  loving  wife 
in  all  the  world?  Is  this  lamb,  O  glutton!  half  so  tender 
as  thy  spouse?  Is  this  wine,  0  sot!  half  so  sweet  as  her 
looks?" 

I  saw  the  storm  was  brewing — her  slaves,  to  whom  she 
turned,  kept  up  a  kind  of  chorus : — 

"Oh,  the  faithless  one! cried  they;  "0,  the  rascal,  the 
false  one,  who  has  no  eye  for  beauty,  and  no  heart  for 
love,  like  the  Khanum's!'' 

"A  lamb  is  not  so  sweet  as  love,"  said  I  gravely:  "but 
a  lamb  has  a  good  temper;  a  wine-cup  is  not  so  intoxicat- 
ing as  a  woman — but  a  wine-cup  has  no  tongue,  O  Khanum 
Gee ! "  and  again  I  dipped  my  nose  in  the  soul-refreshing 
jar. 


366 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


The  sweet  Puttee  Eooge  was  not,  however,  to  be  put  off 
by  my  repartees;  she  and  her  maidens  recommenced  their 
chorus,  and  chattered  and  stormed  until  I  lost  all  patience. 

"Eetire,  friends,'^  said  I,  "and  leave  me  in  peace/* 

"Stir,  on  your  peril!    cried  the  Khanum. 

So,  seeing  there  was  no  help  for  it  but  violence,  I  drew 
out  my  pistols,  cocked  them,  and  said,  "  0  houris !  these 
pistols  contain  each  two  balls:  the  daughter  of  Holkar 
bears  a  sacred  life  for  me — but  for  you ! — by  all  the  saints 
of  Hindoostan,  four  of  ye  shall  die  if  ye  stay  a  moment 
longer  in  my  presence ! This  was  enough ;  the  ladies 
gave  a  shriek,  and  skurried  out  of  the  apartment  like  a 
covey  of  partridges  on  the  wing. 

Now,  then,  was  the- time  for  action.  My  wife,  or  rather 
Bobbachy's  wife,  sate  still,  a, little  flurried  by  the  unusual 
ferocity  which  her  lord  had  displayed  in  her  presence.  I 
seized  her  hand,  and,  gripping  it  close,  whispered  in  her 
ear,  to  which  I  put  the  other  pistol,  "0  Khanum,  listen 
and  scream  not;  the  moment  you  scream,  you  die !  She 
was  completely  beaten:  she  turned  as  pale  as  a  woman 
could  in  her  situation,  and  said,  "  Speak,  Bobbachy  Bahaw- 
der,  I  am  dumb.^* 

"  Woman, said  I,  taking  off  my  helmet,  and  removing 
the  chain  cape  which  had  covered  almost  the  whole  of  my 
face — "J  am  not  thy  hiisbmid — I  am  the  slayer  of  ele- 
phants, the  world-renowned  Gahagan  ! 

As  I  said  this,  and  as  the  long  ringlets  of  red  hair  fell 
over  my  shoulders  (contrasting  strangely  with  my  dyed 
face  and  beard),  I  formed  one  of  the  finest  pictures  that 
can  possibly  be  conceived,  and  1  recommend  it  as  a  subject 
to  Mr.  Heath,  for  the  next  "Book  of  Beauty.'^ 

"Wretch!^'  said  she,  "what  wouldst  thou?'' 

"You  black-faced  fiend,''  said  I,  "raise  but  your  voice, 
and  you  are  dead !  " 

"And  afterwards,"  said  she,  "do  you  suppose  that  you 
can  escape?    The  torments  of  hell  are  not  so  terrible  as  the. 
tortures  that  Holkar  will  invent  for  thee." 

"Tortures,  madam,"  answered  I,  coolly.  ^^Fiddlesticks! 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN.  367 


Ygu  will  neither  betray  me,  nor  will  I  be  put  to  the  tor- 
ture: on  the  contrary,  you  will  give  me  your  best  jewels 
and.  facilitate  my  escape  to  the  fort.  Don't  grind  your 
teeth  and  swear  at  me.  Listen,  madam;  you  know  this 
dress  and  these  arms,  they  are  the  arms  of  your  husband, 
Bobbachy  Bahawder — my  prisoner.  He  now  lies  in  yonder 
fort,  and  if  I  do  not  return  before  daylight,  at  sunrise  he 
dies :  and  then,  when  they  send  his  corpse  back  to  Holkar, 
what  will  you,  his  widow ^  do? 

>^0h!''  said  she,  shuddering,  "spare  me,  spare  me!'' 

"I'll  tell  you  what  you  will  do.  You  will  have  the 
pleasure  of  dying  along  with  him — of  being  roasted,  madam, 
an  agonizing  death,  from  which  your  father  cannot  save 
you,  to  which  he  will  be  the  first  man  to  condemn  and  con- 
duct you.  Ha !  I  see  we  understand  each  other,  and  you 
will  give  me  over  the  cash-box  and  jewels."  And  so  say- 
ing I  threw  myself  back  with  the  calmest  air  imaginable, 
flinging  the  pistols  over  to  her.  "  Light  me  a  pipe,  my  love,'^ 
said  I,  "and  then  go  and  hand  me  over  the  dollars;  do  you 
hear?  "  You  see  I  had  her  in  my  power — up  a  tree,  as  the 
Americans  say,  and  she  very  humbly  lighted  my  pipe  for 
me,  and  then  departed  for  the  goods  I  spoke  about. 
•  What  a  thing  is  luck  !  If  Loll  Mahommed  had  not  been 
made  to  take  that  ride  round  the  camp,  I  should  infallibly 
have  been  lost. 

My  supper,  my  quarrel  with  the  princess,  and  my  pipe 
afterwards,  had  occupied  a  couple  of  hours  of  my  time. 
The  princess  returned  from  her  quest,  and  brought  with 
her  the  box,  containing  valuables  to  the  amount  of  about 
three  millions  sterling.  (I  was  cheated  of  them  afterwards, 
but  have  the  box  still,  a  plain  deal  one.)  I  was  just  about 
to  take  my  departure,  when  a  tremendous  knocking,  shout- 
ing, and  screaming  was  heard  at  the  entrance  of  the  tent. 
It  was  Holkar  himself,  accompanied  by  that  cursed  Loll 
Mahommed,  who,  after  his  punishment,  found  his  master 
restored  to  good-humour,  and  had  communicated  to  him  his 
firm  conviction  that  I  was  an  impostor. 

"  Ho,  Begum !  "  shouted  he,  in  the  ante-room  (for  he  and 


368 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


Ms  people  could  not  enter  the  women's  apartments),  "  speak, 
0  my  daughter!  is  your  husband  returned? 

"Speak,  madam,"  said  I,  "or  remember  the  roasting,^^ 

"He  is,  papa,"  said  the  Begum. 

"Are  you  sure?  Ho!  ho!  ho!"  (the  old  ruffian  was 
laughing  outside) — "are  you  sure  it  is? — Ha!  ha!  ha! — 
he-e-e  !  " 

"  Indeed  it  is  he,  and  no  other.  I  pray  you,  father,  to 
go,  and  to  pass  no  more  such  shameless  jests  on  your  daugh- 
ter. Have  I  ever  seen  the  face  of  any  other  man?  "  And 
hereat  she  began  to  weep  as  if  her  heart  would  break — the 
deceitful  minx! 

Holkar's  laugh  was  instantly  turned  to  fury.  "Oh,  you 
liar  and  eternal  thief ! "  said  he,  turning  round  (as  I  pre- 
sume, for  I  could  only  hear)  to  Loll  Mahommed,  "  to  make 
your  prince  eat  such  monstrous  dirt  as  this!  Furoshes, 
seize  this  man.  I  dismiss  him  from  my  service,  I  degrade 
him  from  his  rank,  I  appropriate  to  myself  all  his  property  j 
and  hark  ye,  furoshes,  give  him  a  hundred  dozen  more!  " 

Again  I  heard  the  whacks  of  the  bamboos,  and  peace 

flowed  into  my  soul. 

*  *  *  *  * 

Just  as  morn  began  to  break,  two  figures  were  seen  to 
approach  the  little  fortress  of  Futtyghur :  one  was  a  woman 
wrapped  closely  in  a  veil,  the  other  a  warrior,  remarkable 
for  the  size  and  manly  beauty  of  his  form,  who  carried  in 
his  hand  a  deal  box  of  considerable  size.  The  warrior  at 
the  gate  gave  the  word  and  was  admitted;  the  woman  re- 
turned slowly  to  the  Indian  camp.  Her  name  was  Puttee 
Eooge;  his  was — 

G.  O'G.  G.,  M.  H.  E.  I.  C.  S.  C,  I.  H.  A. 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN.  369 


CHAPTER  yi. 

FAMINE  IN  THE  GARRISON. 

Thus  my  dangers  for  the  night  being  overcome  I  hastened 
■with  my  precious  box  into  my  own  apartment,  which  com- 
municated with  another,  where  I  had  left  my  prisoner,  with 
a  guard  to  report  if  he  should  recover,  and  to  prevent  his 
escape.  My  servant,  Ghorumsaug,  was  one  of  the  guard. 
I  called  him,  and  the  fellow  came,  looking  very  much  con- 
fused and  frightened,  as  it  seemed,  at  my  appearance. 

"Why,  Ghorumsaug,'^  said  I,  "what  makes  thee  look  so 
pale,  fellow?  "  (He  was  as  white  as  a  sheet.)  "It  is  thy 
master,  dost  thou  not  remember  him?  The  man  had  seen 
me  dress  myself  in  the  Pitan's  clothes,  but  was  not  present 
when  I  had  blacked  my  face  and  beard  in  the  manner  I 
have  described. 

"  O  Bramah,  Vishnou,  and  Mahomet !  "  cried  the  faithful 
fellow,  "and  do  I  see  my  dear  master  disguised  in  this 
way?  For  heaven's  sake  let  me  rid  you  of  this  odious 
black  paint;  for  what  will  the  ladies  say  in  the  ball-room, 
if  the  beautiful  Feringhee  should  appear  amongst  them 
with  his  roses  turned  into  coal? '' 

I  am  still  one  of  the  finest  men  in  Europe,  and  at  the 
time  of  which  I  write,  when  only  two- and- twenty,  I  con- 
fess I  was  a  little  vain  of  my  personal  appearance,  and  not 
very  willing  to  appear  before  my  dear  Belinda  disguised 
like  a  blackamoor.  I  allowed  Ghorumsaug  to  divest  me  of 
the  heathenish  armour  and  habiliments  which  I  wore;  and 
having,  with  a  world  of  scrubbing  and  trouble,  divested  my 
face  and  beard  of  their  black  tinge,  I  put  on  my  own  be- 
coming uniform,  and  hastened  to  wait  on  the  ladies;  has- 
tened, I  say, — although  delayed  would  have  been  the  better 
word,  for  the  operation  of  bleaching  lasted  at  least  two 
hours. 


370  THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAlSr. 


"  How  is  the  prisoner,  Ghorumsaug?  said  I,  before 
leaving  my  apartment. 

"  He  has  recovered  from  the  blow  which  the  Lion  dealt 
him;  two  men  and  myself  watch  over  him;  and  Macgilli- 
cuddy  Sahib  (the  second  in  command)  has  just  been  the 
rounds,  and  has  seen  that  all  was  secure." 

I  bade  Ghorumsaug  help  me  to  put  away  my  chest  of 
treasure  (my  exultation  in  taking  it  was  so  great  that  I 
could  not  help  informing  him  of  its  contents);  and  this 
done,  I  despatched  him  to  his  post  near  the  prisoner,  while 
I  prepared  to  sally  forth  and  pay  my  respects  to  the  fair 
creatures  under  my  protection.  What  good  after  all  have 
I  done,  thought  I  to  myself,  in  this  expedition  which  I 
had  so  rashly  undertaken?  I  had  seen  the  renowned  Hol- 
kar,  I  had  been  in  the  heart  of  his  camp;  I  knew  the  dis- 
position of  his  troops,  that  there  were  eleven  thousand  of 
them,  and  that  he  only  waited  for  his  guns  to  make  a 
regular  attack  on  the  fort.  I  had  seen  Puttee  Eooge;  I 
had  robbed  her  (I  say  robbed  her,  and  I  don't  care  what  the 
reader  or  any  other  man  may  think  of  the  act, )  of  a  deal 
box,  containing  jewels  to  the  amount  of  three  millions  ster- 
ling, the  property  of  herself  and  husband. 

Three  millions  in  money  and  jewels!  And  what  the 
deuce  were  money  and  jewels  to  me  or  to  my  poor  garrison? 
Could  my  adorable  Miss  Bulcher  eat  a  f  ricasee  of  diamonds, 
or,  Cleopatra-like,  melt  down  pearls  to  her  tea?  Could  I, 
careless  as  I  am  about  food,  with  a  stomach  that  would  di- 
gest anything — (once,  in  Spain,  I  ate  the  leg  of  a  horse 
during  a  famine,  and  was  so  eager  to  swallow  this  morsel 
that  I  bolted  the  shoe,  as  well  as  the  hoof,  and  never  felt 
the  slightest  inconvenience  from  either) — could  I,  I  say, 
expect  to  live  long  and  well  upon  a  ragout  of  rupees,  or  a 
,dish  of  stewed  emeralds  and  rubies?  With  all  the  wealth 
of  Croesus  before  me  I  felt  melancholy;  and  would  have 
paid  cheerfully  its  weight  in  carats  for  a  good  honest  round 
of  boiled  beef.  Wealth,  wealth,  what  art  thou?  What  is 
gold? — Soft  metal.  What  are  diamonds?  Shining  tinsel. 
The  great  wealth-winners,  the  only  fame-achievers,  the  sole 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


371 


objects  worthy  of  a  soldier's  consideration,  are  beef-steaks, 
gunpowder,  and  cold  iron. 

The  two  latter  means  of  competency  we  possessed;  I  had 
in  my  own  apartments  a  small  store  of  gunpowder  (keeping 
it  under  my  own  bed,  with  a  candle  burning  for  fear  of 
accidents);  I  had  14  pieces  of  artillery  (4  long  48's  and  4 
carronades,  5  howitzers,  and  a  long  brass  mortar,  for  grape, 
which  I  had  taken  myself  at  the  battle  of  Assye),  and 
muskets  for  ten  times  my  force.  My  garrison,  as  I  have 
told  the  reader  in  a  previous  number,  consisted  of  40  men, 
two  chaplains,  and  a  surgeon;  add  to  these  my  guests,  83 
in  number,  of  whom  nine  only  were  gentlemen  (in  tights, 
powder,  pigtails,  and  silk  stockings,  who  had  come  out 
merely  for  a  dance,  and  found  themselves  in  for  a  siege). 
Such  were  our  numbers  : — 


I  count  myself  good  for  a  thousand,  for  so  I  was  regu- 
larly rated  in  the  army :  with  this  great  benefit  to  it,  that 
I  only  consumed  as  much  as  an  ordinary  mortal.  We  were 
then,  as  far  as  the  victuals  went,  126  mouths;  as  comba- 
tants we  numbered  1,040  gallant  men,  with  12  guns  and  a 
fort,  against  Holkar  and  his  12,000.  No  such  alarming 
odds,  if — 

If! — ay,  there  was  the  rub — if  we  had  shot^  as  well  as 
powder  for  our  guns;  if  we  had  not  only  mm  but  meat. 
Of  the  former  commodity  we  had  only  three  rounds  for 
each  piece.  Of  the  latter,  upon  my  sacred  honour,  to  feed 
126  souls,  we  had  but 

Two  drumsticks  of  fowls,  and  a  bone  of  ham. 

Fourteen  bottles  of  ginger- beer. 

Of  soda-water,  four   do.  do. 

Two  bottles  fine  Spanish  olives. 

Raspberry  cream— the  remainder  of  two  dishes. 


Troops  and  artillerymen, 

Ladies,  

Other  non-combatants,  . 
Major  G.  O'G.  Gahagan,  ^ 


74 
11 


1,135 


372 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


Seven  macaroons,  lying  in  the  puddle  of  a  demolished  trijfle. 
Half  a  drum  of  best  Turkey  figs. 

Some  bits  of  broken  bread ;  two  Dutch  cheeses  (whole) ;  the  cryst  of 
an  old  Stilton ;  and  about  an  ounce  of  almonds  and  raisins. 

Three  ham-sandwiches,  and  a  pot  of  currant-jelly,  and  197  bottles 
of  brandy,  rum,  madeira,  pale  ale  (my  private  stock) ;  a  couple 
of  hard  eggs  for  a  salad,  and  a  flask  of  Florence  oil. 

This  was  the  provision  for  the  whole  garrison !  The  men 
after  supper  had  seized  upon  the  relics  of  the  repast,  as 
they  were  carried  off  from  the  table;  and  these  were  the 
miserable  remnants  I  found  and  counted  on  my  return: 
taking  good  care  to  lock  the  door  of  the  supper-room,  and 
treasure  what  little  sustenance  still  remained  in  it. 

When  I  appeared  in  the  saloon,  now  lighted  up  by  the 
morning  sun,  I  not  only  caused  a  sensation  myself,  but  felt 
one  in  my  own  bosom,  which  was  of  the  most  painful  de- 
scription. Oh,  my  reader!  may  you  never  behold  such  a 
sight  as  that  which  presented  itself :  eighty- three  men  and 
women  in  ball-dresses;  the  former  with  their  lank  pow- 
dered locks  streaming  over  their  faces;  the  latter  with 
faded  flowers,  uncurled  wigs,  smudged  rouge,  blear  eyes, 
draggling  feathers,  rumpled  satins — each  more  desperately 
melancholy  and  hideous  than  the  other — each,  except  my 
beloved  Belinda  Bulcher,  whose  raven  ringlets  never  hav- 
ing been  in  curl  could  of  course  never  go  out  of  curl;  whose 
cheek,  pale  as  the  lily,  could,  as  it  may  naturally  be  sup- 
posed, grow  no  paler;  whose  neck  and  beauteous  arms, 
dazzling  as  alabaster,  needed  no  pearl-powder,  and  there- 
forej  as  I  need  not  state,  did  not  suffer  because  the  pearl- 
powder  had  come  off.  Joy  (deft  link-boy!)  lit  his  lamps 
in  each  of  her  eyes  as  I  entered.  As  if  I  had  been  her  sun, 
her  spring,  lo!  blushing  roses  mantled  in  her  cheek!  Sev- 
entyrthree  ladies,  as  I  entered,  opened  their  fire  vipon  me, 
and  stunned  me  with  cross-questions,  regarding  my  adven- 
tures in  the  camp — she^  as  she  saw  me,  gave  a  faint  scream 
(the  sweetest,  sure,  that  ever  gurgled  through  the  throat 
of  a  woman !)  then  started  up — then  made  as  if  she  would 
sit  down— then  moved  backwards — then  tottered  forwards 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


373 


— then  tumbled  into  my — Psha !  why  recall,  why  attempt 
to  describe  that  delicious — that  passionate  greeting  of  two 
young  hearts?  What  was  the  surrounding  crowd  to  us? 
What  cared  we  for  the  sneers  of  the  men,  the  titters  of  the 
jealous  women,  the  shrill  "Upon  my  word,''  of  the  elder 
Miss  Bulcher,  and  the  loud  expostulations  of  Belinda's 
mamma?  The  brave  girl  loved  me,  and  wept  in  my  arms. 
"  Goliah !  my  Goliah !  "  said  she,  "  my  brave,  my  beautiful, 
tliou2.Y\>  returned,  and  hope  comes  back  with  thee.  Oh! 
who  can  tell  the  anguish  of  my  soul,  during  this  dreadful, 
dreadful  night ! "  Other  similar  ejaculations  of  love  and 
joy  she  uttered;  and  if  I  had  perilled  life  in  her  service,  if 
I  did  believe  that  hope  of  escape  there  was  none,  so  exquis- 
ite was  the  moment  of  our  meeting,  that  I  forgot  all  else 
in  this  overwhelming  joy! 

#  *  *  * 

[The  Major's  description  of  this  meeting,  which  lasted 
at  the  very  most  not  ten  seconds,  occupies  thirteen  pages  of 
writing.  We  have  been  compelled  to  dock  off  twelve-and- 
a-half;  for  the  whole  passage,  though  highly  creditable  to 
his  feelings,  might  possibly  be  tedious  to  the  reader.] 
^  #  #  *  * 

As  I  said,  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  were  inclined  to 
sneer,  and  were  giggling  audibly.  I  led  the  dear  girl  to  a 
chair,  and,  scowling  round  with  a  tremendous  fierceness, 
which  those  who  know  me  know  I  can  sometimes  put  on,  I 
shouted  out,  "Hark  ye!  men  and  women — am  this  lady's 
truest  knight — her  husband  I  hope  one  day  to  be,  I  am 
commander,  too,  in  this  fort — the  enemy  is  without  it; 
another  word  of  mockery — another  glance  of  scorn — and, 
by  heaven,  I  will  hurl  every  man  and  woman  from  the  bat- 
tlements, a  prey  to  the  ruffianly  Holkar !  "  This  quieted 
them.  I  am  a  man  of  my  word,  and  none  of  them  stirred 
or  looked  disrespectfully  from  that  moment. 

It  was  now  my  turn  to  make  them  look  foolish.  Mrs. 
Vandegobbleschroy  (whose  unfailing  appetite  is  pretty  well 
known  to  every  person  who  has  been  in  India)  cried,  "  Well, 
Captain  Gahagan^  your  ball  has  been  so  pleasant,  and  the 


374  THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


supper  was  despatched  so  long  ago,  that  myself  and  the 
ladies  would  be  very  glad  of  a  little  breakfast."  And  Mrs. 
Van  giggled  as  if  she  had  made  a  very  witty  and  reasona- 
ble speech.  "  Oh !  breakfast,  breakfast  by  all  means,"  said 
the  rest;  "we  really  are  dying  for  a  warm  cup  of  tea." 

"  Is  it  bohay  tay  or  souchong  tay  that  you'd  like,  ladies?  " 
says  I. 

"Nonsense,  you  silly  man;  any  tea  you  like,"  said  fat 
Mrs.  Van. 

"What  do  you  say,  then,  to  some  prime  gunpowder?" 
Of  course  they  said  it  was  the  very  thing. 

"And  do  you  like  hot  rowls  or  cowld — muffins  or  crum- 
pets— fresh  butter  or  salt?  And  you,  gentlemen,  what  do 
you  say  to  some  ilegant  divvled-kidneys  for  yourselves,  and 
just  a  trifle  of  grilled  turkeys,  and  a  couple  of  hundthred 
new-laid  eggs  for  the  ladies?" 

"Pooh,  pooh!  be  it  as  you  will,  my  dear  fellow,"  an- 
swered they  all. 

"But  stop,"  says  I.  "0  ladies,  0  ladies;  0  gentlemen, 
gentlemen,  that  you  should  ever  have  come  to  the  quarters 
of  Goliah  G-ahagan,  and  he  been  without  " 

"  What?  "  said  they,  in  a  breath. 

"Alas!  alas!  I  have  not  got  a  single  stick  of  chocolate 
in  the  whole  house." 

"  Well,  well,  we  can  do  without  it." 
"Or  a  single  pound  of  coffee." 

"Nevermind;  let  that  pass  too."  (Mrs.  Van  and  the 
rest  were  beginning  to  look  alarmed.) 

"  And  about  the  kidneys  now  I  remember,  the  black  div- 
vies outside  the  fort  have  seized  upon  all  the  sheep;  and 
how  are  we  to  have  kidneys  without  them?  "  (Here  there 
was  a  slight  0 — o— o!) 

"  And  with  regard  to  the  milk  and  crame,  it  may  be  re- 
marked that  the  cows  are  likewise  in  pawn,  and  not  a  single 
drop  can  be  had  for  money  or  love:  but  we  can  beat  up 
eggs,  you  know,  in  the  tay,  which  will  be  just  as  good." 

"Oh!  just  as  good." 

"Only  the  divvle's  in  the  luck,  there's  not  a  fresh  egg 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


375 


to  be  had — no,  nor  a  fresh  chicken/^  continued  I,  "nor  a 
stale  one  either;  nor  a  tayspoonful  of  souchong,  nor  a  thim- 
bleful of  bohay;  nor  the  laste  taste  in  life  of  butther,  salt 
or  fresh;  nor  hot  rowls  or  cowld! 

"In  the  name  of  Heaven! "  said  Mrs.  Van,  growing  very 
pale,  "  what  is  there,  then? 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,  Vll  tell  you  what  there  is  now/' 
shouted  I.  "There's 

"  Two  drumsticks  of  fowls,  and  a  bone  of  ham. 
Fourteen  bottles  of  ginger-beer,"  &c.  <fec.  &c. 

And  I  went  through  the  whole  list  of  eatables  as  before, 
ending  with  the  ham-sandwiches  and  the  pot  of  jelly. 

"Law!  Mr.  Gahagan,''  said  Mrs.  Colonel  Vandegobble- 
schroy,  "  give  me  the  ham-sandwiches — I  must  manage  to 
breakfast  off  them.'* 

And  you  should  have  heard  the  pretty  to-do  there  was  at 
this  modest  proposition !  Of  course  I  did  not  accede  to  it 
— why  should  I?  I  was  the  commander  of  the  fort,  and 
intended  to  keep  these  three  very  sandwiches  for  the  use  of 
myself  and  my  dear  Belinda.  "Ladies,''  said  I,  "there 
are  in  this  fort  one  hundred  and  twenty-six  souls,  and  this 
is  all  the  food  which  is  to  last  us  during  the  siege.  Meat 
there  is  none — of  drink  there  is  a  tolerable  quantity;  and 
at  one  o'clock  punctually,  a  glass  of  wine  and  one  olive 
shall  be  served  out  to  each  woman :  the  men  will  receive 
two  glasses,  and  an  olive  and  a  fig — and  this  must  be  your 
food  during  the  siege.  Lord  Lake  cannot  be  absent  more 
than  three  days;  and  if  he  be — why,  still  there  is  a  chance 
— why  do  I  say  a  chance? — a  certainty  of  escaping  from  the 
hands  of  these  ruffians." 

"  Oh,  name  it,  name  it,  dear  Captain  Gahagan !  "  screeched 
the  whole  covey  at  a  breath. 

"It  lies,"  answered  I,  "in  t\\Q  powder  magazine,  I  will 
blow  this  fort,  and  all  it  contains,  to  atoms,  ere  it  becomes 
the  prey  of  Holkar." 

The  women,  at  this,  raised  a  squeal  that  might  have  been 
heard  in  Holkar' s  camp,  and  fainted  in  different  directions; 


376  THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


but  my  dear  Belinda  whispered  in  my  ear,  ^'  Well  done, 
thou  noble  knight!  bravely  said,  my  heart's  Goliah!''  I 
felt  I  was  right :  I  could  have  blown  her  up  twenty  times 
for  the  luxury  of  that  single  moment!  "And  now,  ladies," 
said  I,  "  I  must  leave  you.  The  two  chaplains  will  remain 
with  you  to  administer  professional  consolation — the  other 
gentlemen  will  follow  me  upstairs  to  the  rampart^  where  I 
shall  find  plenty  of  work  for  them." 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN.  377 


CHAPTEK  VII. 

THE  ESCAPE. 

Loth  as  they  were,  these  gentlemen  had  nothing  for  it 
but  to  obey,  and  they  accordingly  followed  me  to  the  ram- 
parts, where  I  proceeded  to  review  my  men.  The  fort,  in 
my  absence,  had  been  left  in  command  of  Lieutenant  Mac- 
gillicuddy,  a  countryman  of  my  own  (with  whom,  as  may 
be  seen  in  an  early  chapter  of  my  memoirs,  I  had  an  affair 
of  honour) ;  and  the  prisoner  Bobbachy  Bahawder,  whom  I 
had  only  stunned,  never  wishing  to  kill  him,  had  been  left 
in  charge  of  that  officer.  Three  of  the  garrison  (one  of 
them  a  man  of  the  Ahmednuggar  LTegulars,  my  own  body- 
servant,  Ghorumsaug  above  named),  were  appointed  to 
watch  the  captive  by  turns,  and  never  leave  him  out  of  their 
sight.  The  lieutenant  was  instructed  to  look  to  them  and 
to  their  prisoner,  and  as  Bobbachy  was  severely  injured  by 
the  blow  which  I  had  given  him,  and  was,  moreover,  bound 
hand  and  foot,  and  gagged  smartly  with  cords,  I  considered 
myself  sure  of  his  person. 

Macgillicuddy  did  not  make  his  appearance  when  I  re- 
viewed my  little  force,  and  the  three  havildars  were  like- 
wise absent — this  did  not  surprise  me,  as  I  had  told  them 
not  to  leave  their  prisoner;  but,  desirous  to  speak  with  the 
lieutenant,  I  despatched  a  messenger  to  him,  and  ordered 
him  to  appear  immediately. 

The  messenger  came  back;  he  was  looking  ghastly  pale: 
he  whispered  some  information  into  my  ear,  which  instantly 
caused  me  to  hasten  to  the  apartments  where  I  had  caused 
Bobbachy  Bahawder  to  be  confined. 

The  men  had  fled; — Bobbachy  had  fled;  and  in  his  place, 
fancy  my  astonishment  when  I  found — with  a  rope  cutting 
his  naturally  wide  mouth  almost  into  his  ears — with  a 
dreadful  sabre-cut  across  his  forehead — with  his  legs  tied 


378  THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


over  his  head,  and  his  arms  tied  between  his  legs — my  un- 
happy, my  attached  friend — Mortimer  Macgillicuddy ! 

He  had  been  in  this  position  for  about  three  hours — it 
was  the  very  position  in  which  I  had  caused  Bobbachy  Ba- 
hawder  to  be  placed — an  attitude  uncomfortable,  it  is  true, 
but  one  which  renders  escape  impossible,  unless  treason  aid 
the  prisoner.  : 

I  restored  the  lieutenant  to  his  natural  erect  position :  I 
poured  half-a-bottle  of  whiskey  down  the  immensely  en- 
larged orifice  of  his  mouth,  and  when  he  had  been  released, 
he  informed  me  of  the  circumstances  that  had  taken  place. 

Fool  that  I  was!  idiot! — upon  my  return  to  the  fort,  to 
have  been  anxious  about  my  personal  appearance,  and  to 
have  spent  a  couple  of  hours  in  removing  the  artifiicial 
blackening  from  my  beard  and  complexion,  instead  of  going 
to  examine  my  prisoner;  v/hen  his  escape  would  have  been 
prevented — 0  foppery,  foppery! — it  was  that  cursed  love 
of  personal  appearance  which  had  led  me  to  forget  my  duty 
to  my  general,  my  country,  my  monarch,  and  my  own 
honour ! 

Thus  it  was  that  the  escape  took  place.  My  own  fellow 
of  the  Irregulars,  whom  I  had  summoned  to  dress  me,  per- 
formed the  operation  to  my  satisfaction,  invested  me  with 
the  elegant  uniform  of  my  corps,  and  removed  the  Pitan's 
disguise,  which  I  had  taken  from  the  back  of  the  prostrate 
Bobbachy  Bahawder.  What  did  the  rogue  do  next? — Why, 
he  carried  back  the  dress  to  the  Bobbachy — he  put  it,  once 
more,  on  its  right  owner,  he  and  his  infernal  black  compan- 
ions (who  had  been  so  won  over  by  the  Bobbachy  with 
promises  of  enormous  reward),  gagged  Macgillicuddy,  who 
was  going  the  rounds,  and  then  marched  with  the  Indian 
coolly  up  to  the  outer  gate,  and  gave  the  word.  The  senti- 
nel, thinking  it  was  myself,  who  had  first  come  in,  and 
was  as  likely  to  go  out  again  (indeed,  my  rascally  valet 
said  that  Gahagan  Saib  was  about  to  go  out  with  him  and 
his  two  companions  to  reconnoitre) — opened  the  gates,  and 
off  they  went ! 

This  accounted  for  the  confusion  of  my  valet  when  I  en- 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN.  379 


tered! — and  for  the  scoiindrePs  speech,  that  the  lieutenant 
had  just  been  the  rounds  ; — he  had^  poor  fellow,  and  had 
been  seized  and  bound  in  this  cruel  way.  The  three  men^ 
with  their  liberated  prisoner,  had  just  been  on  the  point  of 
escape,  when  my  arrival  disconcerted  them :  I  had  changed 
the  guard  at  the  gate  (whom  they  had  won  over  likewise); 
and  yet,  although  they  had  overcome  poor  Mac,  and  al- 
though they  were  ready  for  the  start,  they  had  positively 
no  means  for  effecting  their  escape,  until  I  was  ass  enough 
to  put  means  in  their  way.  Fool!  fool!  thrice  besotted 
fool  that  I  was,  to  think  of  my  own  silly  person  when  I 
should  have  been  occupied  solely  with  my  public  duty. 

From  Macgillicuddy's  incoherent  accounts,  as  he  was 
gasping  from  the  effects  of  the  gag  and  the  whiskey  he  had 
taken  to  revive  him,  and  from  my  own  subsequent  observa- 
tions, I  learned  this  sad  story.  A  sudden  and  painful 
thought  struck  me — my  precious  box! — I  rushed  back,  I 
found  that  box — I  have  it  still.  Opening  it,  there  where 
I  had  left  ingots,  sacks  of  bright  tomauns,  kopeks,  and  ru- 
pees, strings  of  diamonds  as  big  as  ducks'  eggs,  rubies  as 
red  as  the  lips  of  my  Belinda,  countless  strings  of  pearls, 
amethysts,  emeralds,  piles  upon  piles  of  bank-notes — I 
found — a  piece  of  paper !  with  a  few  lines  in  the  Sanscrit 
language,  which  are  thus,  word  for  word,  translated 

EPIGRAM. 

(On  disa/ppointing  a  certain  Major,) 

The  conquering  lion  returned  with  his  prey, 

And  safe  in  his  cavern  he  set  it, 
The  sly  little  fox  stole  the  booty  away ; 
And,  as  he  escaped,  to  the  lion  did  say, 
Aha!  don't  you  wish  you  may  get  it?" 

Confusion !  Oh,  how  my  blood  boiled  as  I  read  these 
cutting  lines.  I  stamped, — I  swore, — I  don't  know  to  what 
insane  lengths  my  rage  might  have  carried  me,  had  not  at 
this  moment  a  soldier  rushed  in,  screaming,  The  enemy, 
the  enemy ! 


380 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


• 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  CAPTIVE. 

It  was  high  time,  indeed,  that  I  should  make  my  appear- 
ance. Waving  my  sword  with  one  hand  and  seizing  my 
telescope  with  the  other,  I  at  once  frightened  and  examined 
the  enemy.  Well  they  knew  when  they  saw  that  flamingo- 
plume  floating  in  the  breeze — that  awful  figure  standing  in 
the  breach — that  waving  war-sword  sparkling  in  the  sky — 
well,  I  say,  they  knew  the  name  of  the  humble  individual 
who  owned  the  sword,  the  plume,  and  the  figure.  The 
ruffians  were  mustered  in  front,  the  cavalry  behind.  The 
flags  were  flying,  the  drums,  gongs,  tambourines,  violon- 
cellos, and  other  instruments  of  Eastern  music,  raised  in 
the  air  a  strange,  barbaric  melody;  the  officers  (yatabals), 
mounted  on  white  dromedaries,  were  seen  galloping  to  and 
fro,  carrying  to  the  advancing  hosts  the  orders  of  Holkar. 

You  see  that  two  sides  of  the  fort  of  Futtyghur  (rising 
as  it  does  on  a  rock  that  is  almost  perpendicular)  are  de- 
fended by  the  Burrumpooter  river,  two  hundred  feet  deep 
at  this  point,  and  a  thousand  yards  wide,  so  that  I  had  no 
fear  about  them  attacking  me  in  that  quarter.  My  guns, 
therefore  (with  their  six-and-thirty  miserable  charges  of 
shot)  were  dragged  round  to  the  point  at  which  I  conceived 
Holkar  would  be  most  likely  to  attack  me.  I  W8is  in  a 
situation  that  I  did  not  dare  to  fire,  except  at  such  times  as 
I  could  kill  a  hundred  men  by  a  single  discharge  of  a  can- 
non; so  the  attacking  party  marched  and  marched,  very 
strongly,  about  a  mile  and  a  half  off,  the  elephants  march- 
ing without  receiving  the  slightest  damage  from  us,  until 
they  had  come  to  within  four  hundred  yards  of  our  walls 
(the  rogues  knew  all  the  secrets  of  our  weakness,  through 
the  betrayal  of  the  dastardly  Ghorumsaug,  or  they  never 
would  have  ventured  so  near).    At  that  distance^it  was 


THE  LIFE  OF  MATOR  GAHAGAK. 


381 


about  the  spot  where  the  Futtyghur  hill  began  gradually 
to  rise — the  invading  force  stopped;  the  elephants  drew 
up  in  a  line,  right  angles  with  our  wall  (the  fools !  they 
thought  they  should  expose  themselves  too  much  by  taking 
a  position  parallel  to  it!)  the  cavalry  halted  too,  and — 
after  the  deuce^s  own  flourish  of  trumpets  and  hangings  of 
gongs,  to  be  sure, — somebody,  in  a  flame-coloured  satin 
dress,  with  an  immense  jewel  blazing  in  his  pugree  (that 
looked  through  my  telescope  like  a  small  but  very  bright 
planet),  got  up  from  the  back  of  one  of  the  very  biggest 
elephants,  and  began  a  speech. 

The  elephants  were,  as  I  said,  in  a  line  formed  with  ad- 
mirable precision,  about  three  hundred  of  them.  The  fol- 
lowing little  diagram  will  explain  matters : — 


E  is  the  line  of  elephants.  F  is  the  wall  of  the  fort.  G  a 
gun  in  the  fort.    Now  the  reader  will  see  what  I  did. 

The  elephants  were  standing,  their  trunks  waggling  to 
and  fro  gracefully  before  them;  and  I,  with  superhuman 
skill  and  activity,  brought  the  gun  G  (a  devilish  long  brass 
gun)  to  bear  upon  them;  I  pointed  it  myself;  bang!  it 
went,  and  what  was  the  consequence?    Why,  this: — 


•  •  • 


%  •  ♦  « 


F 


G 


F 


!P  is  the  fort,  as  before.  G  is  the  gun,  as  before.  E,  the 
elephants,  as  we  have  previously  seen  them.    What  then 


382 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


is  X  ?  X  is  the  line  taken  hy  the  hall  fired  from  G,  which 
took  off  one  hundred  and  thirty-four  elephants^  trunks,  and 
only  spent  itself  in  the  tusk  of  a  very  old  animal,  that 
stood  the  hundred  and  thirty-fifth ! 

I  say  that  such  a  shot  was  never  fired  before  or  since ; 
that  a  gun  was  never  pointed  in  such  a  way.  Suppose  I 
had  been  a  common  man,  and  contented  myself  v/ith  firing 
bang  at  the  head  of  the  first  animal?  An  ass  would  have 
done  it,  prided  himself  had  he  hit  his  mark,  and  what 
would  have  been  the  consequence?  Why  that  the  ball 
might  have  killed  two  elephants  and  wounded  a  third ;  but 
here,  probably,  it  would  have  stopped,  and  done  no  further 
mischief.  The  trunk  was  the  place  at  which  to  aim;  there 
are  no  bones  there;  and  away,  consequently,  went  the  bul- 
let, shearing,  as  I  have  said,  through  one  hundred  and 
thirty-five  probosces.  Heavens!  what  a  howl  there  was 
when  the  shot  took  effect!  What  a  sudden  stoppage  of 
Holkar's  speech!  What  a  hideous  snorting  of  elephants! 
What  a  rush  backwards  was  made  by  the  whole  army,  as 
if  some  demon  was  pursuing  them ! 

Away  they  went.  No  sooner  did  I  see  them  in  full  re- 
treat, than,  rushing  forward  myself,  I  shouted  to  my  men, 
"  My  friends,  yonder  lies  your  dinner !  We  flung  open 
the  gates — we  tore  down  to  the  spot  where  the  elephants 
had  fallen:  seven  of  them  were  killed;  and  of  those  that 
escaped  to  die  of  their  hideous  wounds  elsewhere,  most  had 
left  their  tusks  behind  them.  A  great  quantity  of  them 
we  seized;  and  I  myself,  cutting  up  with  my  scimitar  a 
couple  of  the  fallen  animals,  as  a  butcher  would  a  calf,  mo- 
tioned to  the  men  to  take  the  pieces  back  to  the  fort,  where 
barbacued  elephant  was  served  round  for  dinner,  instead  of 
the  miserable  allowance  of  an  olive  and  a  glass  of  wine, 
which  I  had  promised  to  my  female  friends,  in  my  speech 
to  them.  The  animal  reserved  for  the  ladies  was  a  young 
white  one — the  fattest  and  tenderest  I  ever  ate  in  my  life : 
they  are  very  fair  eating,  but  the  flesh  has  an  India-rubber 
flavour,  which,  until  one  is  accustomed  to  it,  is  unpala* 
table. 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN.  383 


It  was  well  that  I  had  obtained  this  supply,  for,  during 
my  absence  on  the  works,  Mrs.  Vandegobbleschroy  and  one 
or  two  others  had  forced  their  way  into  the  supper-room, 
and  devoured  every  morsel  of  the  garrison  larder,  with  the 
exception  of  the  cheeses,  the  olives,  and  the  wine,  which 
were  locked  up  in  my  own  apartment,  before  which  stood  a 
sentinel.  Disgusting  Mrs.  Van!  When  I  heard  of  her 
gluttony,  I  had  almost  a  mind  to  eat  her.  However,  we 
made  a  very  comfortable  dinner  off  the  barbacued  steaks, 
and  when  everybody  had  done,  had  the  comfort  of  knowing 
that  there  was  enough  for  one  meal  more. 

The  next  day,  as  I  expected,  the  enemy  attacked  us  in 
great  force,  attempting  to  escalade  the  fort;  but  by  the  help 
of  my  guns,  and  my  good  sword,  by  the  distinguished  bravery 
of  Lieutenant  Macgillicuddy  and  the  rest  of  the  garrison, 
we  beat  this  attack  off  completely,  the  enemy  sustaining  a 
loss  of  seven  hundred  men.  We  were  victorious;  but  when 
another  attack  was  made,  what  were  we  to  do?  We  had 
still  a  little  powder  left,  but  had  fired  off  all  the  shot, 
stones,  iron- bars,  &c.,  in  the  garrison!  On  this  day,  too, 
we  devoured  the  last  morsel  of  our  food;  I  shall  never  for- 
get Mrs.  Vandegobbleschroy's  despairing  look,  as  I  saw  her 
sitting  alone,  attempting  to  make  some  impression  on  the 
little  white  elephant's  roasted  tail. 

The  third  day  the  attack  was  repeated.  The  resources 
of  genius  are  never  at  an  end.  Yesterday  I  had  no  ammu- 
nition; to-day,  I  had  discovered  charges  sufficient  for  two 
guns,  and  two  swivels,  which  were  much  longer,  but  had 
bores  of  about  blunderbuss  size. 

This  time  my  friend  Loll  Mahommed,  who  had  received, 
as  the  reader  may  remember,  such  a  bastinadoing  for  my 
sake,  headed  the  attack.  The  poor  wretch  could  not  walk, 
but  he  was  carried  in  an  open  palanquin,  and  came  on  wav- 
ing his  sword,  and  cursing  horribly  in  his  Hindoostan  jar- 
gon. Behind  him  came  troops  of  matchlock-men,  who 
picked  off  every  one  of  our  men  who  showed  their  noses 
above  the  ramparts;  and  a  great  host  of  blackamoors  with 
scaling-ladders,  bundles  to  fill  the  ditch,  fascines,  gabions, 

17 — Vol.  19 


384 


THE  LIFE  OP  MAJOR  GAHAGAK 


cnlverinSj  demilunes,  counterscarps,  and  all  the  other  ap- 
purtenances of  offensive  war. 

On  they  came;  my  guns  and  men  were  ready  for  them. 
You  will  ask  how  my  pieces  were  loaded?  I  answer,  that 
though  my  garrison  were  without  food,  I  knew  my  duty  as 
an  officer,  and  had  put  the  two  Dutch  cheeses  into  the  two 
guns  J  and  had  crammed  the  contents  of  a  bottle  of  olives  into 
each  swivel, 

,  They  advanced, — whish!  went  one  of  the  Dutch  cheeses, 
— bang !  went  the  other.  Alas !  they  did  little  execution. 
In  their  first  contact  with  an  opposing  body,  they  certainly 
floored  it;  but  they  became  at  once  like  so  much  Welsh- 
rabbit,  and  did  no  execution  beyond  the  man  whom  they 
struck  down. 

"  Hogree,  pogree,  wongree-f um;  (praise  to  Allah  and 
the  forty-nine  Imaums !)  shouted  out  the  ferocious  Loll  Ma- 
hommed  when  he  saw  the  failure  of  my  shot.  "  Onward, 
sons  of  the  Prophet!  the  infidel  has  no  more  ammunition. 
A  hundred  thousand  lakhs  of  rupees  to  the  man  who  brings 
me  Gahagan's  head ! 

His  men  set  up  a  shout,  and  rushed  forward — he,  to  do 
him  justice,  was  at  the  very  head,  urging  on  his  own  palan- 
quin-bearers, and  poking  them  with  the  tip  of  his  scimitar. 
They  came  panting  up  the  hill :  I  was  black  with  rage,  but 
it  was  the  cold,  concentrated  rage  of  despair.  "Macgilli- 
cuddy,^^  said  I,  calling  that  faithful  officer,  "you  know 
where  the  barrels  of  powder  are?  He  did.  You  know 
the  use  to  make  of  them?  "  He  did.  He  grasped  my 
hand.  "Goliah,'^  said  he,  "farewell!  I  swear  that  the 
fort  shall  be  in  atoms,  as  soon  as  yonder  unbelievers  have 
carried  it.  Oh,  my  poor  mother !  added  the  gallant  youth, 
as  sighing,  yet  fearless,  he  retired  to  his  post. 

I  gave  one  thought  to  my  blessed,  my  beautiful  Belinda, 
and  then,  stepping  into  the  front,  took  down  one  of  the 
swivels; — a  shower  of  matchlock  balls  came  whizzing  round 
my  head.    I  did  not  heed  them. 

I  took  the  swivel,  and  aimed  coolly.  Loll  Mahommed, 
his  palanquin,  and  his  men,  were  now  not  above  two  hun- 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN.  385 


dred  yards  from  the  fort.  Loll  was  straight  before  me, 
gesticulating  and  shouting  to  his  men.    I  fired — bang ! ! ! 

I  aimed  so  true,  that  one  hundred  and  seventeen  best  Spai%- 
ish  olives  were  lodged  in  a  lump  in  the  face  of  the  unhappy 
Loll  Mahommed,  The  wretch,  uttering  a  yell  the  most 
hideous  and  unearthly  I  ever  heard,  fell  back  dead — the 
frightened  bearers  flung  down  the  palanquin  and  ran — the 
whole  host  ran  as  one  man :  their  screams  might  be  heard 
for  leagues.  "Tomasha,  tomasha,^^  they  cried,  "it  is  en- 
chantment!'' Away  they  fled,  and  the  victory  a  third 
time  was  ours.  Soon  as  the  fight  was  done,  I  flew  back  to 
my  Belinda.  We  had  eaten  nothing  for  twenty-four  hours, 
but  I  forgot  hunger  in  the  thought  of  once  more  behold- 
ing her  ! 

The  sweet  soul  turned  towards  me  with  a  sickly  smile 
as  I  entered,  and  almost  fainted  in  my  arms;  but  alas! 
it  was  not  Ibve  which  caused  in  her  bosom  an  emotion  so 
strong — it  was  hunger !  "  Oh !  my  Goliah,''  whispered  she, 
"for  three  days  I  have  not  tasted  food — I  could  not  eat 
that  horrid  elephant  yesterday;  but  now — oh!  heaven!^' 
She  could  say  no  more,  but  sunk  almost  lifeless  on  my 
shoulder.  I  administered  to  her  a  trifling  dram  of  rum 
which  revived  her  for  a  moment,  and  then  rushed  down- 
stairs, determined  that  if  it  we^e  a  piece  of  my  own  leg, 
she  should  still  have  something  to  satisfy  her  hunger. 
Luckily  I  remembered  that  three  or  four  elephants  were 
still  lying  in  the  field,  having  been  killed  by  us  in  the  first 
action,  two  days  before.  Necessity,  thought  I,  has  no  law; 
my  adorable  girl  must  eat  elephant,  until  she  can  get  some- 
thing better. 

I  rushed  into  the  court  where  the  men  were,  for  the  most 
part,  assembled.  " Men,"  said  I,  " our  larder  is  empty;  we 
must  fill  it  as  we  did  the  day  before  yesterday ;  who  will 
follow  Gahagan  on  a  foraging  party?  "  I  expected  that,  as 
on  former  occasions,  every  man  would  offer  to  accompany  me. 

To  my  astonishment,  not  a  soul  moved — a  murmur  arose 
among  the  troops;  and  at  last  one  of  the  oldest  and  bravest 
came  forward. 


386 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


Captain/^  he  said,  is  of  no  use;  we  cannot  feed 
upon  elephants  for  ever;  we  have  not  a  grain  of  powder  left, 
and  must  give  up  the  fort  when  the  attack  is  made  to-mor- 
row. We  may  as  well  be  prisoners  now  as  then,  and  we 
wonH  go  elephant- hunting  any  more.'' 

''^  Ruffian ! ''  I  said,  "  he  who  first  talks  of  surrender, 
dies!''  and  I  cut  him  down.  ^^Is  there  any  one  else  who 
wishes  to  speak?  " 

No  one  stirred. 

"Cowards!  miserable  cowards!"  shouted  T;  "what,  you 
dare  not  move  for  fear  of  death,  at  the  hands  of  those 
wretches  who  even  now  fled  before  your  arms — what,  do  I 
say  your  arms? — before  mine  ! — alone  I  did  it;  and  as  alone 
I  routed  the  foe,  alone  I  will  victual  the  fortress !  Ho ! 
open  the  gate !  " 

I  rushed  out;  not  a  single  man  would  follow.  The 
bodies  of  the  elephants  that  we  had  killed  still  lay  on  the 
ground  where  they  had  fallen,  about  four  hundred  yards 
from  the  fort.  I  descended  calmly  the  hill,  a  very  steep 
one,  and  coming  to  the  spot,  took  my  pick  of  the  an- 
imals, choosing  a  tolerably  small  and  plump  one,  of  about 
thirteen  feet  high,  which  the  vultures  had  respected.  I 
threw  this  animal  over  my  shoulders,  and  made  for  the 
fort. 

As  I  marched  up  the  acclivity,  whizz — piff — whirr !  came 
the  balls  over  my  head;  and  pitter-patter,  pitter-patter! 
they  fell  on  the  body  of  the  elephant  like  drops  of  rain. 
The  enemy  were  behind  me;  I  knew  it,  and  quickened  my 
pace.  I  heard  the  gallop  of  their  horse :  they  came  nearer, 
nearer;  I  was  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  fort — seventy 
— fifty!  I  strained  every  nerve;  I  panted  with  the  super- 
human exertion — I  ran, — could  a  man  run  very  fast  with 
such  a  tremendous  weight  on  his  shoulders? 

Up  came  the  enemy;  fifty  horsemen  were  shouting  and 
screaming  at  my  tail.  0  heaven!  five  yards  more — one 
moment — and  I  am  saved !  It  is  done — I  strain  the  last 
strain — I  make  the  last  step — I  fling  forward  my  precious 
burden  into  the  gate  opened  wide  to  receive  me  and  it,  and 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN.  387 


— I  fall !  The  gate  thunders  to,  and  I  am  left  on  the  out- 
side !  Fifty  knives  are  gleaming  before  my  bloodshot  eyes 
— fifty  black  hands  are  at  my  throat,  when  a  voice  exclaims, 
Stop ! — kill  him  not,  it  is  Gujpiiti !  "  A  film  came  over 
my  eyes — exhausted  nature  would  bear  no  more. 


388 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

SURPRISE  OF  FUTTYGHUR, 

When  I  awoke  from  the  trance  into  which.  I  had  fallen, 
I  found  myself  in  a  bath,  surrounded  by  innumerable  black 
faces;  and  a  Hindoo  pothukoor  (whence  our  word  apothe- 
cary) feeling  my  pulse,  and  looking  at  me  with  an  air  of 
sagacity. 

"  Where  am  I?  I  exclaimed,  looking  round  and  examin- 
ing the  strange  faces,  and  the  strange  apartment  which  met 
my  view,  "Bekhusm!'^  said  the  apothecary.  "Silence! 
Gahagan  Saib  is  in  the  hands  of  those  who  know  his  val- 
our, and  will  save  his  life." 

"Know  my  valour,  slave?  Of  course  you  do,''  said  I; 
"but  the  fort — the  garrison — the  elephant — Belinda,  my 
love — my  darling — Macgillicuddy — the  scoundrelly  muti- 
neers— the  deal  bo — ''  ^  *  ^ 

I  could  say  no  more;  the  painful  recollections  pressed  so 
heavily  upon  my  poor  shattered  mind  and  frame,  that  both 
failed  once  more.  I  fainted  again,  and  I  know  not  how 
long  I  lay  insensible. 

Again,  however,  I  came  to  my  senses :  the  pothukoor  ap- 
plied restoratives,  and  after  a  slumber  of  some  hours  I 
awoke,  much  refreshed.  I  had  no  wound;  my  repeated 
swoons  had  been  brought  on  (as  indeed  well  they  might)  by 
my  gigantic  efforts  in  carrying  the  elephant  up  a  steep  hill 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  length.  Walking,  the  task  is  bad 
enough,  but  running,  it  is  the  deuce;  and  I  would  recom- 
mend any  of  my  readers  who  may  be  disposed  to  try  and 
carry  a  dead  elephant,  never,  on  any  account,  to  go  a  pace 
of  more  than  five  miles  an  hour. 

Scarcely  was  I  awake,  when  I  heard  the  clash  of  arms  at 
my  door  (plainly  indicating  that  sentinels  were  posted 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN.  389 


there),  and  a  single  old  gentleman,  richly  habited,  entered 
the  room.  Did  my  eyes  deceive  me?  I  had  surely  seen 
him  before.  No — yes — no — yes — it  tvas  he — the  snowy 
white  beard,  the  mild  eyes,  the  nose  flattened  to  a  jelly, 
and  level  with  the  rest  of  the  venerable  face,  proclaimed 
him  at  once  to  be — Saadut  Allee  Beg  Bimbukchee,  Holkar's 
prime  vizier,  whose  nose,  as  the  reader  may  recollect,  his 
highness  had  flattened  with  his  kaleawn  daring  my  inter- 
view with  him  in  the  Pitan's  disguise.  I  now  knew  my 
fate  but  too  well — I  was  in  the  hands  of  Holkar. 

Saadut  Allee  Beg  Bimbukchee  slowly  advanced  towards 
me,  and  with  a  mild  air  of  benevolence,  which  distinguished 
that  excellent  man  (he  was  torn  to  pieces  by  wild  horses 
the  year  after,  on  account  of  a  difference  with  Holkar),  he 
came  to  my  bedside,  and  taking  gently  my  hand,  said, 
^^Life  and  death,  my  son,  are  not  ours.  Strength  is  deceit- 
ful, valour  is  unavailing,  fame  is  only  wind — the  nightin- 
gale sings  of  the  rose  all  night — where  is  the  rose  in  the 
morning?  Booch,  booch!  it  is  withered  by  a  frost.  The 
rose  makes  remarks  regarding  the  nightingale,  and  where 
is  that  delightful  song-bird?  Pena-bekhoda,  he  is  netted^ 
plucked,  spitted,  and  roasted !  Who  knows  how  misfortune 
comes?    It  has  come  to  Gahagan  Gujputi! 

^^It  is  well,^'  said  I,  stoutly,  and  in  the  Malay  language. 
Gahagan  Gujputi  will  bear  it  like  a  man." 

"No  doubt — like  a  wise  man  and  a  brave  one;  but  there 
is  no  lane  so  long  to  which  there  is  not  a  turning,  no  night 
so  black  to  which  there  comes  not  a  morning.  Icy  winter 
is  followed  by  merry  springtime — grief  is  often  succeeded 
by  joy.'' 

"Interpret,  Oriddler!'^  said  I;  "Gahagan  Khan  is  no 
reader  of  puzzles — no  prating  Mollah.  Gujputi  loves  not 
words,  but  swords." 

"Listen,  then,  0  Gujputi:  you  are  in  Holkar's  power." 

"I  know  it." 

"  You  will  die  by  the  most  horrible  tortures  to-morrow 
morning." 
."  I  dare  say." 


390 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


"They  will  tear  your  teeth  from  your  jaws,  your  nails 
from  your  fingers,  and  your  eyes  from  your  head/' 
"Very  possibly." 

"They  will  flay  you  alive,  and  then  burn  you." 
"  Well;  they  can't  do  any  more." 

"They  will  seize  upon  every  man  and  woman  in  yonder 
fort," — it  was  not  then  taken ! — "  and  repeat  upon  them  the 
same  tortures." 

"Ha!  Belinda!  Speak^ — how  can  all  this  be  avoided?  " 

"Listen.    Gahagan  loves  the  moon-face  called  Belinda." 

"He  does,  Vizier,  to  distraction." 

"Of  what  rank  is  he  in  the  Koompani's  army?  " 

"A  captain." 

"A  miserable  captain — oh,  shame!  Of  what  creed  is 
he?" 

"I  am  an  Irishman,  and  a  Catholic." 
"  But  he  has  not  been  very  particular  about  his  religious 
duties?  " 
"Alas,  no." 

"He  has  not  been  to  his  mosque  for  these  twelve 
years?  " 

"'Tis  too  true." 

"Hearken  now,  Gahagan  Khan.  His  Highness  Prince 
Holkar  has  sent  me  to  thee.  You  shall  have  the  moon-face 
for  your  wife — your  second  wife,  that  is; — the  first  shall 
be  the  incomparable  Puttee  Rooge,  who  loves  you  to  mad- 
ness;— with  Puttee  Rooge,  who  is  the  wife,  jou.  shall  have 
the  wealth  and  rank  of  Bobbachy  Bahawder,  of  whom  his 
highness  intends  to  get  rid.  You  shall  be  second  in  com- 
mand of  his  highness's  forces.  Look,  here  is  his  commis- 
sion signed  with  the  celestial  seal,  and  attested  by  the  sa- 
cred names  of  the  forty-nine  Imaums.  You  have  but  to 
renounce  your  religion  and  your  service,  and  all  these  re- 
wards are  yours." 

He  produced  a  parchment,  signed  as  he  said,  and  gave  it 
to  me  (it  was  beautifully  written  in  Indian  ink — I  had  it 
for  fourteen  years,  but  a  rascally  valet,  seeing  it  very  dirty, 
washed  it,  forsooth,  and  washed  off  every  bit  of  the  writing). 


THE  LIFE  OP  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


391 


I  took  it  calmly,  and  said,  "This  is  a  tempting  offer.  0 

Vizier,  how  long  wilt  thou  give  me  to  consider  of  it? 

After  a  long  parley,  he  allowed  me  six  hours,  when  I 

promised  to  give  him  an  answer.    My  mind,  however,  was 

made  up — as  soon  as  he  was  gone,  I  threw  myself  on  the 

sofa  and  fell  asleep. 

*  =i^=  #  *  * 

At  the  end  of  the  six  hours  the  Vizier  came  back :  two 
people  were  with  him;  one,  by  his  martial  appearance,  I 
knew  to  be  Holkar,  the  other  I  did  not  recognize.  It  was 
about  midnight. 

"Have  you  considered?  said  the  Vizier,  as  he  came  to 
my  couch. 

"I  have,'^  said  I,  sitting  up, — I  could  not  stand,  for  my 
legs  were  tied,  and  my  arms  fixed  in  a  neat  pair  of  steel 
handcuffs.  "I  have,''  said  I,  "unbelieving  dogs!  I  have. 
Do  you  think  to  pervert  a  Christian  gentleman  from  his 
faith  and  honour?  Kuffian  blackamoors !  do  your  worst; 
heap  tortures  on  this  body,  they  cannot  last  long.  Tear 
me  to  pieces — after  you  have  torn  me  into  a  certain  num- 
ber of  pieces,  I  shall  not  feel  it — and  if  I  did,  if  each  tor- 
ture could  last  a  life,  if  each  limb  were  to  feel  the  agonies 
of  a  whole  body,  what  then?  I  would  bear  all — all — all — ■ 
all — all — ALL !  My  breast  heaved — my  form  dilated — ^ 
my  eye  flashed  as  I  spoke  these  words.  "Tyrants!"  said 
I,  "dulce  et  decorum  est  pro  patri§,  mori."  Having  thus 
clinched  the  argument,  I  was  silent. 

The  venerable  Grand  Vizier  turned  away;  I  saw  a  tear 
trickling  down  his  cheeks. 

"What  a  constancy!"  said  he.  "Oh,  that  such  beauty 
and  such  bravery  should  be  doomed  so  soon  to  quit  the 
earth!" 

His  tall  companion  only  sneered  and  said,  Avd  Be- 
Ihida — " 

"  Ha !  "  said  I,  "  ruffian,  be  still ! — Heaven  will  protect 
her  spotless  innocence.  Holkar,  I  know  thee,  and  thou 
knowest  me  too!  Who,  with  his  single  sword,  destroyed 
thy  armies?    Who,  with  his  pistol,  cleft  in  twain  thy  nose- 


392  THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


ring?  Who  slew  thy  generals?  Who  slew  thy  elephants? 
Three  hundred  mighty  beasts  went  forth  to  battle :  of  these 
I  slew  one  hundred  and  thirty-five! — Dog,  coward,  ruffian, 
tyrant,  unbeliever !  Gahagan  hates  thee,  spurns  thee,  spits 
on  thee ! " 

Holkar,  as  I  made  these  uncomplimentary  remarks,  gave 
a  scream  of  rage,  and,  drawing  his  scimitar,  rushed  on  to 
despatch  me  at  once  (it  was  the  very  thing  I  wished  for), 
when  the  third  person  sprang  forward,  and  seizing  his  arm, 
cried — 

^^Papa!  oh,  save  him!"  It  was  Puttee  Rooge!  ^^Ee- 
jnember,'^  continued  she,  "  his  misfortunes — remember,  oh, 
remember  my^ — love!  — and  here  she  blushed,  and  putting 
one  finger  into  her  mouth,  and  hanging  down  her  head, 
looked  the  very  picture  of  modest  affection. 

Holkar  sulkily  sheathed  his  scimitar,  and  muttered, 
*^^Tis  better  as  it  is;  had  I  killed  him  now,  I  had  spared 
him  the  torture.  None  of  this  shameless  fooling,  Puttee 
Kooge,''  continued  the  tyrant,  dragging  her  away.  Cap- 
tain Gahagan  dies  three  hours  from  hence. Puttee  Eooge 
gave  one  scream  and  fainted — her  father  and  the  Vizier 
carried  her  off  between  them;  nor  was  I  loath  to  part  with 
her,  for,  with  all  her  love,  she  was  as  ugly  as  the  deuce. 

They  were  gone — my  fate  was  decided.  I  had  but  three 
hours  more  of  life :  so  I  flung  myself  again  on  the  sofa,  and 
fell  profoundly  asleep.  As  it  may  happen  to  any  of  my 
readers  to  be  in  the  same  situation,  and  to  be  hanged  them- 
selves, let  me  earnestly  entreat  them  to  adopt  this  plan  of 
going  to  sleep,  which  I  for  my  part  have  repeatedly  found 
to  be  successful.  It  saves  unnecessary  annoyance,  it  passes 
away  a  great  deal  of  unpleasant  time,  and  it  prepares  one 
to  meet  like  a  man  the  coming  catastrophe. 

#  :^  ^  # 

Three  o'clock  came :  the  sun  was  at  this  time  making  his 
appearance  in  the  heavens,  and  with  it  came  the  guards, 
who  were  appointed  to  conduct  me  to  the  torture.  I  woke, 
fose,  was  carried  out,  and  was  set  on  the  very  white  don- 
key on  which  Loll  Mahommed  was  conducted  through  the 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


393 


camp  after  he  was  bastinadoed.  Bobbachy  Bahawder  rode 
behind  me,  restored  to  his  rank  and  state;  troops  of  cavalry 
hemmed  us  in  on  all  sides;  my  ass  was  conducted  by  the 
common  executioner :  a  crier  went  forward,  shouting  out, 
Make  way  for  the  destroyer  of  the  faithful — he  goes  to 
bear  the  punishment  of  his  crimes.^'  We  came  to  the  fatal 
plain :  it  was  the  very  spot  whence  I  had  borne  away  the 
elephant,  and  in  full  sight  of  the  fort.  I  looked  towards 
it.  Thank  heaven !  King  George's  banner  waved  on  it 
still — a  crowd  were  gathered  on  the  walls — the  men,  the 
dastards  who  had  deserted  me — and  women,  too.  Among 
the  latter  I  thought  I  distinguished  one  who — Oh  gods  I  the 
thought  turned  me  sick — I  trembled  and  looked  pale  for 
the  first  time. 

"He  trembles!  he  turns  pale,''  shouted  out  Bobbachy 
Bahawder,  ferociously  exulting  over  his  conquered  enemy, 

"  Dog !  "  shouted  I — (I  was  sitting  with  my  head  to  the 
donkey's  tail,  and  so  looked  the  Bobbachy  full  in  the  face) 
— "  not  so  pale  as  you  looked  when  I  felled  you  with  this 
arm — not  so  pale  as  your  women  looked  when  I  entered 
your  harem !  "  Completely  chop- fallen,  the  Indian  rufl&an 
was  silent:  at  any  rate,  I  had  done  for  him. 

We  arrived  at  the  place  of  execution.  A  stake,  a  couple 
of  feet  thick  and  eight  high,  was  driven  in  the  grass ;  round 
the  stake,  about  seven  feet  from  the  ground,  was  an  iron 
ring,  to  which  were  attached  two  fetters;  in  these  my 
wrists  were  placed.  Two  or  three  executioners  stood  near 
with  strange-looking  instruments :  others  were  blowing  at 
a  fire,  over  which  was  a  cauldron,  and  in  the  embers  were 
stuck  other  prongs  and  instruments  of  iron. 

The  crier  came  forward  and  read  my  sentence.  It  was 
the  same  in  effect  as  that  which  had  been  hinted  to  me  the 
day  previous  by  the  Grand  Vizier.  I  confess  I  was  too 
agitated  exactly  to  catch  every  word  that  was  spoken. 

Holkar  himself,  on  a  tall  dromedary,  was  at  a  little  dis- 
tance. The  Grand  Vizier  came  up  to  me — it  was  his  duty 
to  stand  by,  and  see  the  punishment  performed.  "It  is 
yet  time,"  said  he. 


394 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


I  nodded  my  head,  but  did  not  answer. 

The  Vizier  cast  up  to  heaven  a  look  of  inexpressible  an- 
guish, and  with  a  voice  choking  with  emotion,  said^  JExe- 
cutioner — do — your — duty  ! 

The  horrid  man  advanced — he  whispered  sulkily  in  the 
ears  of  the  Grand  Vizier,  "  Gtiggly  ka  ghee^  hum  khedge- 
ree^^^  said  he,  ^' the  oil  does  not  boil  yet — wait  one  minute." 
The  assistants  blew,  the  fire  blazed,  the  oil  was  heated. 
The  Vizier  drew  a  few  feet  aside :  taking  a  large  ladle  full 
of  the  boiling  liquid,  he  advanced,  and — 

*  *  =j(?  #  * 

=^  ^  #  ^  # 

Whish !  bang,  bang !  pop !  the  executioner  was  dead 
at  my  feet,  shot  through  the  head;  the  ladle  of  scalding 
oil  had  been  dashed  in  the  face  of  the  unhappy  Grand  Vi- 
zier, who  lay  on  the  plain,  howling.  "Whish!  bang! 
pop !  Hurrah ! — charge !— forwards ! — cut  them  down ! — 
no  quarter ! 

I  saw — yes,  no,  yes,  no,  yes !— I  saw  regiment  upon  regi- 
ment of  galloping  British  horsemen  riding  over  the  ranks 
of  the  flying  natives.  First  of  the  host,  I  recognized.  Oh 
Heaven!  my  AHMEDNUGGAE  IREEGULAES!  On 
came  the  gallant  line  of  black  steeds  and  horsemen;  swift, 
swift  before  them  rode  my  officers  in  yellow — Giogger,  Pap- 
pendick,  and  Stuffle;  their  sabres  gleamed  in  the  sun,  their 

voices  rung  in  the  air.    "  D  —  them ! they  cried,  "  give 

it  them,  boys !  "  A  strength  supernatural  thrilled  through 
]ny  veins  at  that  delicious  music;  by  one  tremendous  effort, 
I  wrenched  the  post  from  its  foundation,  five  feet  in  the 
ground.  I  could  not  release  my  hands  from  the  fetters,  it 
is  true;  but,  grasping  the  beam  tightly,  I  sprung  forward — 
with  one  blow  I  levelled  the  five  executioners  in  the  midst 
of  the  fire,  their  fall  upsetting  the  scalding  oil-can;  with  the 
next,  I  swept  the  bearers  of  Bobbachy's  palanquin  off  their 
legs;  with  the  third,  I  caught  that  chief  himself  in  the 
small  of  the  back,  and  sent  him  flying  on  to  the  sabres  of 
my  advancing  soldiers ! 

The  next  minute,  Giogger  and  Stuffle  were  in  my  arms, 


THE  LIFE  OF  MAJOR  G  AH  AG  AN. 


395 


Pappendick  leading  on  the  Irregulars.  Friend  and  foe  in 
that  wild  chase  had  swept  far  away.  We  were  alone,  I 
was  freed  from  my  immense  bar;  and  ten  minutes  after- 
wards, when  Lord  Lake  trotted  up  with  his  staff,  he  found 
me  sitting  on  it. 

'^Look  at  Gahagan,'^  said  his  lordship.  Gentlemen, 
did  I  not  tell  you  we  should  be  sure  to  find  him  at  his 
post  ?  " 

The  gallant  old  nobleman  rode  on :  and  this  was  the  fa- 
mous BATTLE  OF  FuRRUCKABAD^  OR  SURPRISE   OF  FUTTY- 

GHUR,  fought  on  the  17th  of  November,  1804. 

About  a  month  afterwards,  the  following  announcement 
appeared  in  Boggleywallah  Hitrkaru  and  other  Indian 
papers: — Married,  on  the  25th  of  December,  at  Futty- 
ghur,  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Snorter,  Captain  Goliah  O'Grady 
Gahagan,  Commanding  Irregular  Horse,  Ahmednuggar,  to 
Belinda,  second  daughter  of  Major-General  Bulcher,  C.B. 
His  Excellency  the  Commander-in-Chief  gave  away  the 
bride;  and  after  a  splendid  dejettne,  the  happy  pair  set  off 
to  pass  the  Mango  season  at  Hurrygurrybang.  Venus  must 
recollect,  however,  that  Mars  must  not  always  be  at  her 
side.    The  Irregulars  are  nothing  without  their  leader.'' 

Such  was  the  paragraph — such  the  event — the  happiest 
in  the  existence  of 

G.  O'G.  G,,  M.  H.  E.  I.  C.  S-  C.  I.  H,  A. 


THE  END. 


